


Sarcastically Yours

by Daerwyn



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dwarf Courting, Dwarf/Human Relationship(s), F/M, Helmaninquiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 10:12:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 52,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4872859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daerwyn/pseuds/Daerwyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were a bastard half-dwarf, half-human, who only attended the quest for Erebor to learn more about your father’s past. You never expected to gain anything, and you never expected to lose as much as you did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Like a Married Couple

You stared at the hobbit door, unsure of whether you were meant to be here or not. You had just been given the direction by the wizard, told the rough surroundings you were meant to follow, and then had relied on the locals to direct you once you reached the Shire. Bag’s End.. The Hobbit Hole.

You took another deep breath before lightly knocking.

“I HAVE HAD IT WITH THESE DWARVES!” a voice shouted from the other side, but the door jerked open and you blinked in surprise. The man was a hobbit, and he seemed to be exasperated. “The party has been canceled. I don’t know what Gandalf told you-“ He paused, staring at you. “You are not a dwarf.”

“Half,” you answered cautiously. “And it seems to be a good thing that I am so.” You shifted. “I was given instructions to come here from Gandalf the Grey. If the meeting has been canceled, then-“

“Canceled it was not, Bilbo Baggins!” a rough, withered voice spoke from behind the hobbit, and you would admit that you were pretty relieved to see the wizard. This was the last place you had to go. A tavern wench’s life wasn’t appealing to you.

“Gandalf,” you greeted carefully. “I do not wish to impose on our host-“

“The others have already arrived,” Gandalf spoke with a twinkle. “Come, there’s some food after your long journey.” You said nothing, merely glancing to Bilbo, who gave a great sigh and let you through. Your smile was in thanks and you unwound your cloak, revealing your traveling clothing. A tunic, tucked into a man’s pants and a heavy coat that was dying warm in the stuffy house. You shed that too, and hung it on an empty hook, before tearing off your bow and arrow. “Meet the Company.”

“How was your travels?” another old voice questioned and you glanced up to see Balin. You had only met him once, briefly at the Prancing Pony, and gone over the contract. Lacerations, incinerations, the whole lot. You agreed to it for the end result - the gold. You had nothing, and though you didn’t care for a fifteenth of the gold, you wouldn’t have minded a handful. A handful would at least get you settled somewhere nice. Or perhaps once Erebor was back in business, you would be able to find a place there. Surely there would be need for farmhands or barmaids.

You gave Balin a warm smile. “Well enough. Got lost once I left Bree, but some traders put me on the right track. And yourself?”

“Arrived early, actually.”

For a dwarf that was elderly, you found that surprising. But the elderly dwarf gestured for you to come further in and you were introduced to who exactly you’d be spending your time with. The one with the axe frightened you, there was no doubt, but the others – various colorings and sternness, were nothing if not a welcoming sight. Admittedly, you hadn’t been around dwarves much in your time, but you had seen some in passing.

“Boys, this is Y/N, from East Farthing,” Balin introduced you. “She’ll be our scout.”

“Scout?” a voice spoke up sharply.

“Aye, brother she rides a horse like it’s her birthright, and is quite good with a bow, if I do say so myself,” Balin quickly went in your defense. You flushed slightly from the praise. You weren’t that good with a bow. “Assessed her myself. Y/N, this is my brother Dwalin, and then we’ve the rest.” The names were all a blur and you knew it would take you weeks, if not months, to get their names straightened out. But you gave them all a polite nod.

A chair was suddenly placed beside Balin and the sullen King Under the Mountain. And awkwardly, you took a seat, the soup thin, and sparce, but still wonderful. You thanked the Hobbit quietly, and noticed that the King was still eating as well. “East Farthing? Isn’t that just west of the Mountains?”

You glanced up to see one of the strange-bearded ones talking to you. “Oh, yes. I lived at the foothills of the Misty Mountains before I moved west.”

“A city dweller then? What did you do?”

“A woman, Gandalf?” Thorin spoke at last. “A woman is just as bad luck as the number thirteen.”

Your words died in your throat and you glanced from Balin to the wizard. He had said you would likely be viewed hostilly until the others warmed. But bad luck? “I have much faith that she is exactly what we need in this quest. And to answer your question, Fili, she was a farmhand. Worked incredibly well with not only crops, but all of the equipment. Strongest woman I’ve met, and that’s a lot.”

“So you’re human? You’re a bit short for a human,” Bofur spoke.

“My father was a dwarf,” you answered carefully. “And my mother human. I’ve mixed height.”

“She shoots straight and true, and has keen eyes and ears. She’ll be an excellent addition to the company, I should think. Besides, she’s already signed the contract. She’s nothing to lose, and only hope to gain.” You gave Balin a thankful smile, before you busied herself with the soup. “Besides, has a taste for adventure. I didn’t even need to say anything more than that we were going to Erebor, and she was already signing her name.” Nevermind that you hadn’t read the contract, as you couldn’t, so Balin had read it to you.

“We leave at first light,” Thorin spoke sharply. “You had best be ready.” You merely said nothing but nodded once.

First light was early. And Gandalf had somehow managed to get an order of ponies, as well as two horses, one for you. As you mounted yours with ease, bring it in a quick circle, you could feel the eyes of the king on you, untrusting. “I advise we take the west road until it meets the east,” you spoke, turning towards him. “It is quicker than riding through the valley, and it will not tire the horses.”

“You advise?” Thorin cut out harshly. “I did not ask for your advice. We ride through the valley. It is safer.” You dared not argue, but you simply clenched your jaw and narrowed you eyes, before you turned your horse around. And your horse kicked off, riding off. You circled the company, and when you turned back to the front, your smirk was wide as you saddled up beside Thorin, who’s pony was at a slow pace.

“Perhaps I was wrong,” you offered. He narrowed his eyes up at you. “The west road would not be quicker. What would be quicker is if you didn’t have your ponies set to a toddler’s pace and we moved instead of remaining stationary. At this rate, Erebor won’t be reached until five summers from now, give or take a season.”

The king growled out. “You are meant to scout, not make pleasantries.” Oh, so he had sarcasm, too. Good. He ground his teeth together. “And you are not meant to talk to any of us. Just look for any dangers on the horizon.”

You smirked. “Then you would be most pleased to know that about a mile back, there’s a hobbit running for us. And two miles ahead, a hobbit that is going to insist we come to second breakfast.” His brow relaxed into surprise, instead of sternness. “Would you consider those dangers, if something as gruelling as slowness will be your downfall?”

He seemed ashamed. You straightened in your saddle. “The hobbit is coming?”

“Yes, and in a rather big hurry too. Shouting to all that would hear that he’s going on an adventure. And I suspect he’ll catch up in about fifteen minutes. The man in front, however, will be more of an hour. Bilbo runs much faster than your ponies trot.” He sneered, but made no comment. “So I shouldn’t shoot the hobbit through the eyes when he makes mention of his delicious eggs and sausage?”

“That would be unwise.”

“Which is what I thought.” You kicked your horse so that it jerked a few steps ahead of Thorin. “If it’s a long ride we’re aiming for, maybe second breakfast would be more than agreeable.The horses may be exhausted.”

“You are not here to make comments to undermine me, your king.”

“My king?” you questioned, glancing back. “Last I checked, you were no king, just a prince trying to win his throne back for coronation. But king? No. Nor are you mine.” He jerked his head away from your gaze, and you turned back around satisfied. “If Balin hasn’t made it clear, Thorin Oakenshield, I have nothing to lose on this quest. And I am only here because of Gandalf’s recommendation. Otherwise, I could leave you to scout for yourself. But thankfully, I don’t go back on my word.”

Your eyes caught something in the trees you were approaching, and you drew your bow, an arrow joining it, before a thwacking sound reached the companies ears. And immediately, the sound of swords being drawn behind you, reached your ears.

“What is it? Who’s ahead?”

Rising so that you were standing in your saddle, you grabbed your arrow in the tree, a ring of three apples resting along the shaft. You plucked one off, rubbing it on your tunic before you turned and bit from it. “No danger, simply my breakfast.” Thorin would not have admitted it, but you could see the appraising eye for your archery skills. You slid another apple off, tossing it back to him, and another to Gandalf. “The Shire is the safest place we will likely be. I’ve heard plenty of stories from travelers that came to the inns I’ve worked at.”

“A bed warmer, Gandalf?” you heard Thorin grumble behind you, obviously not meant for you to be heard. “She will be of no use here.”

“A bed warmer? However did you come to that conclusion, Thorin Oakenshield? You should be ashamed of yourself. Y/N is a tavernmaid, yes, but no loose woman. She worked hard for her living-”

“Do not speak to me of working hard to live,” Thorin snapped, perhaps louder than he intended. “The girl knows nothing of the world.”

“She knows a great deal more than you think. She has worked on farms since she was a small child, and she only stopped because of her mother’s death, moving to a safer area of the world. Do you fault her for that? To crave safety in peace, instead of in iron? She is no less capable of fighting off an orc than you, my dear Thorin Oakenshield. And if I say there will be a woman in this company, than there shall be a woman.” He seemed chastised. “Now, make talk of how she is a loose woman again, and I will ensure that you do not talk. You must not be so harsh with her. She is just as determined as you, and she is just as stubborn as you. You would be a fool to fight with her.”

“She is but a twig,” Thorin stated. “And she’s more human than she is dwarf.”

But not even five minutes later, the sound of Bilbo crying, “Wait!” reached their ears.

“Stop!” Thorin called, and the entire parade stopped. You turned in your horse, and gave Thorin a smirk of triumph.

“Shall I shoot or no?” you questioned sarcastically.

He glowered at you. “So you were right. There is no pride in being smug.”

“Just as there’s no pride is calling a woman a whore behind her back,” you returned simply, and he clenched his jaw, surprised you had heard. “Next time, I’ll be sure to ride farther ahead so that I do not hear the other whispers you have about me.”

When they reached the old farmer’s home, nearly three weeks of the journey in, you knew it was a bad place to stay. “There are hills near,” you spoke simply. “Likely a cave or some sort of shelter. It looks as though it will rain soon. We can rest, gather game and supplies before leaving again.”

“I decide where we camp,” Thorin snapped to you. “We stay here for the night. Gain our bearings and we leave in the morning.”

You exhaled, praying to the sky that they’d help you, before you dismounted. Gandalf was not impressed either. As you two tended to a fire, he spoke. “You mustn’t let him get to you. Thorin Oakenshield is nothing if not proud.”

“He’s a stubborn ass is what he is,” you returned, chewing on the greens Bombur had found. “Honestly, it wouldn’t even hurt to venture a few more minutes into the hills.”

“And I quite agree with you,” Gandalf admitted. “But I’m afraid once Thorin Oakenshield has made up his mind, there is little that can be said against it.”

Melisandre somehow didn’t agree. But nothing in the journey changed for her until the moment Thorin came charging into battle against the trolls. Though he was ten times shorter than just one of the large beasts, he did not falter, nor cower away from the strong strokes of the troll. And there was bravery in the small dwarf, even where the pride was sometimes stronger.

So for days following, you were silent, working through the feelings you felt. There was no way a king, much less a proud and stubborn one such as Thorin, would ever return the admiration you felt for him. You no longer saw him as a grumpy, stubborn dwarf. Instead, he was a grumpy, stubborn, yet attractive dwarf.

“Your horse is going slow. Are you in need of rest?” Thorin questioned.

You hadn’t meant to snap, but you did. “I’m matching the pace of your ponies. Perhaps it is you that is going slow.”

He curled his lip in arger, but trudged on. “I knew we should not have brought a woman on this quest.”

The insult rang a bit deeper than it had in the past. He still did not think you a valuable person on this quest. Yet all the other dwarves – including the one with an axe half embedded into his brain – had more of a value to him. They were brothers in a warrior sense. And you… well, you were the girl intruding on a boy’s only club.

You chose not to respond, simply because there was nothing you could say. Nothing that would stop him from seeing you that way. Whenever the Company would make camp, you always chose the same spot to lay your bedroll. Between Thorin and Dwalin – and they did not seem to object. But you found comfort in having two of the best fighters mere feet from you. Dwalin – who was rough and fierce, still did frighten you, but he had warmed slightly. And though Thorin hadn’t warmed at all, you would close your eyes and listen to his breathing as he slept. It was always deeply, and always he did not stir unless something woke him.

It was when he slept deeply, that you would turn on your side and peak out from under your coat. He looked peaceful. Like all the worries of the world melted as he drifted off. And like the worry he had of this quest mattered not. He almost looked as if he was tucked safely away at home, without much conviction on how to get to Erebor. He looked friendly.

But you made sure to shut your eyes quickly whenever you heard anyone approaching or stirring. The last thing you needed was for you to get caught by the king himself. Your king.

No, Y/N, that’s foolish. He is not your king. He’s not yours, you chastized yourself. And a flush warmed your cheeks at the reminder. No, he was not yours.

As the ponies trudged on, suddenly Thorin’s voice cut through your thoughts. “If you’re cold, you might as well speak up so we can stop and make a fire-”

“I’m fine,” you snapped. “If I have not said that I am tired, then I can hold out until the others start to ask for rest.”

He glared at you and you found that it made his eyes look even darker blue than they were otherwise. But you shook that thought, flushing even darker as you gripped the reigns of your horse tightly, moving a few steps in front of him so he would not see. “You are turning red.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “What do you care if I am cold or tired? You did not want me to come along in the first place. Apparently I have no use if I am not a whore at a brothel, or a woman to warm your bed for you. Perhaps you should shoo me away now before we cross the mountains, so that I can go back to my prostitution in peace.”

A few dwarves, having heard, choked at the words. “I called you a whore once-”

“Speaking it once is enough to tell me that you think about it far more,” you returned evenly. And your flush was gone, replaced by hard-set anger.

“Stop fighting like a damn married couple,” Dwalin snapped from a few horses back. “I’m sure every Orc and their mother could hear you.”

You clenched your jaw. Dwalin was right. It was stupid to fight. There was nothing to fight about, when lives mattered more. But as your horse once more fell back beside Thorin’s, you couldn’t help the slip of your finger that had him glaring daggers at you until your horse happily trotted ahead once more. You didn’t speak again until they camped. And even then, your words were few and far between.

“We don’t think you’re a loose sort of woman,” Dwalin said gruffly as he sat down beside you in front of the fire. He sounded as though he wished to be anywhere but right there talking to you. “Thorin’s just worried.”

“I know. He’s waited a long time to try and reclaim the mountain,” you said quietly. “Sometimes I do not think he thinks before he speaks.”

“That’s dwarves for you,” Dwalin stated simply. You laughed quietly under your breath. “You had best ignore him.”

“I can’t,” you admitted quietly, not quite meaning to confide in him but found that he was one of the few you could. Bilbo was already asleep, and Gandalf looked worse for wear from where he slept. And Balin… Balin couldn’t be troubled with trivial things like this at his age.

Dwalin was silent a minute. “I see.”

You cleared your throat, grabbing your pack by your feet. “I should go to sleep. Thanks, Dwalin.”

He grunted. “He’s not as bad as he wants you to think he is. But he’s got his pride shoved up his arse. But truth of the matter is, lass, he likes it when you’re sarcastic to him. Gives him a little smile every once in a while.” You stared at Dwalin, wondering if this was some trick Fili and Kili had put him up to. “Dare I even say he thinks it’s cute? Annoying, yes, but cute.” You raised your eyebrow. There was no way the King Under the Mountain thought you were cute. And definitely not someone that made him smile.

“And you ate one too many of Bombur’s mushrooms he found a few leagues back,” you said blandly. “Goodnight.”

“Just give it a bit of a look next time. You won’t miss it.”

You did your best to ignore him. You set your bedroll down by where near Dwalin’s was, as usual, and were asleep before Thorin even came back from his watch. Thorin most definitely did not smile. And you knew for absolute certainty that he did not want you along on this quest. Dwalin had to have eaten some extra mushrooms. There was no question – no doubt. Yet you couldn’t help but feel a small hope as you drifted into your dreams. That maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t stubborn squabbling after all.


	2. A King's Education

You didn’t miss it. The next time you snapped at Thorin in frustration, you could see the quirk of his lips before it schooled itself into the usual growl or frown. And you glanced to Dwalin immediately after noticing it, but he pretended not to even see you. So you were left more confused than ever.

You were developing feelings for the dwarf. Great Mahal, you were. His looks you craved. The presence of his pony near you as you rode ahead. The feel of his warmth when you laid down on your bedroll at night, sometime him turning close enough that you could feel his breath. Oh, you craved him more than you had any of the human men in East Farthing or Bree. He was Thorin. He was… well, he was a King.

And Kings… No. You struggled with the emotion, with your quick grins in his direction when you were right about something, when you caught trails of an orc and doubled back to the Company to tell them they needed to change direction to avoid the Orcs, when he listened to you.

Or when he protected you. The latest instance you couldn’t get out of your mind was when the Orcs had caught up, causing the horses to bolt, and you had been grabbed by Thorin, pulled out of the way just as an arrow nearly shot at you. He had saved your life.

“Go!” he shouted, his sword held out in front of him to protect himself, and he shoved you in the direction of the ravine the rest of the Company, save for Kili and Thorin, had disappeared into. You stumbled down the hole, Fili catching you before you could hurt yourself, and Kili came down before Thorin. And then the entire group was heading down the passageway towards someplace filled with magic.

Rivendell.

It wasn’t until you and the Company had become refugees in Rivendell for nearly a week that he passed the map to you. Your eyes widened slightly in surprise at the ancient parchment being pressed into your hands.

“Find us a way out of here,” he requested gruffly.

You blinked and glanced down to the map, a swirl of outraged disbelief filling you. “What?”

“Take the map, look it over, and find us some path to use to get us out of here. You think you can help us make up for lost time? We have a little over a year now to make it there by Durin’s day.” You glanced up to Thorin as he stared at you expectantly. “What are you waiting for?” You slowly unfolded the map, careful as you knew it was old. And stared at the drawings. You had no idea where you even were in relation to the map.

You clenched your jaw, glancing up to the King who was standing there watching you with an expectant look. “Not all of us were given an education, I hope you know. I can count coins well enough, to know what to pay my landlord. But I cannot read or write.” You shoved the map back to him. “Nor read a map. Why don’t you shove it somewhere the sun doesn’t shine, you ignorant, obstinate asshole.” Gathering the last of your dignity, you stomped past him, going as fast as you could down the stairs. You had every intention of reaching the room you had been assigned.

But you got lost, instead finding yourself at the riverside and huffing from anger. You knew he had asked to humiliate you – to get you back for the times in the past you had gotten the last word. You merely followed his direction, and when you suggested alternate paths, it was because you had traveled them yourself in the past. But now that you were out of familiar territory… well, you could offer no further help. You were now just the scout. No witty comments, no little statements on how slow you guys were going. You would soon be in the dwarf’s native territory, and that meant that you had no knowledge of anything there.

So, you sat, steaming, on the rocks, listening to the waterfall not far by. And taking deep breaths to calm yourself.

“What did he do this time, lass?” Bofur’s voice was always welcome. He was always cheerful and optimistic. And whenever you were left in a particularly foul mood, he was always there to make a quick jibe that lifted your spirits up. You glanced towards the happy dwarf, seated a few rocks away from you. You were unsure of if he had been there the whole time, or had just joined you.

“What makes you think it had something to do with him?” There was no need to reference who him was. Bofur knew, as did you. Only one dwarf put you in a murderous mood.

“You’re muttering about how a dragon will be the least of Thorin’s worries, and how Fili better start planning his royal robes.” You huffed. Perhaps they weren’t just your thoughts then. “So, love, what did he do now?”

“He knows what he did,” you said firmly. “He gave me the map and told me to find us a route.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Bofur admitted after a few minutes of silence, as if he was expecting you to continue. “That doesn’t sound so bad. In fact, that sounds like he’s pulled the stick out of his arse and is acting civil towards you.”

You shot Bofur a glare, grounding out the words past the building mortification and humiliation you felt. “I cannot read a map. I have no idea where Rivendell even is in relation to the map.” His eyes widened in understanding, and he uttered a soft, “oh.” You let out a deep breath and glanced back towards the waterfall. “He’s a spiteful ass that wanted nothing but to humiliate me and enjoy my reaction while he did it.”

“I don’t think that’s-”

You stood suddenly. “I’m going to go find my room. It’s somewhere in this weird city, and maybe I’ll find myself falling off of a cliff to save Thorin the trouble later.”

“Lovely, I really don’t think he meant-”

“I don’t care what he meant, that’s what he did. And anyone with half a brain would know that a bastard half-breed would not be given an education like some pompous prince that had libraries of books and enough free time to spare. Bloody, bastard of a- Oompf!” You were stopped when you ran into a solid form in the middle of the steps. A path you hadn’t been paying much attention to, but you looked up just in time to see Thorin’s eyebrow raised. Wonderful.

“I assure you, if I was a bastard, then I would not have survived the dragon fire.” You clenched your jaw, staring at him, waiting. He sighed. “I have come to make amends. I did not think-”

“Oh, so it wasn’t intentional? Well, it’s good to know that a half wit is leading this Company,” you snapped sarcastically. “Now if you’ll get out of my way, I’m going to find myself a horse to get back to Bree with-”

“You did sign a contract-”

“No, what I did was have Balin read me the contract, and I swirled a quill around on the parchment where he pointed to.” Thorin winced. “Bloody princes and-”

“I have also come to offer to teach you to read a map. Should I perish on this journey, I should like to think that you will take your best efforts in getting the rest of them to safety.” You paused, not even two steps past him. “That is, if you can stand to be in my presence long enough without swearing about my mother’s potential illicit activities.”

You turned back to him, waiting for him to make another comment, but he didn’t. He was waiting for a response. “Why? Why after all these months of insulting my intelligence, would you offer to build it?”

“Well, by what you’ve said there wasn’t much intelligence up there to begin with.” You rolled your eyes. There it was. The final straw. You turned abruptly, and no matter how many times you watched him fall asleep, listened to his breathing patterns to get yourself to sleep, you were fully prepared to march out of the elven realm and return home. You would beg for your job back, find a farm to work on. Anything. As long as it wasn’t here. He just made you so angry. You were just so angry about everything. Because this only proved why your feelings would lead to nothing. “Wait, I did not mean to say that-”

“You don’t seem to mean to say a lot of things,” you returned. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“I truly did not mean to and I am sorry,” Thorin spoke as he grabbed your arm. He held it tightly and refused to let it go.

“This is assault and I’m sure the elves have a law against this-”

“I do mean to teach you to read the map. My intentions are simply to try to overcome this fued. At first I doubted you and your intentions, but I see now that they’re pure. I cannot guarantee to stop the bickering all together, but I can promise to try to minimize it, for both of our sakes. The Orcs are on our tail now, and constant bickering could mean our lives.”

You sighed quietly. “Just map reading, and then we can go our separate ways and only have to sleep in the same room as each other at night?”

He quirked an eyebrow, “A forward suggestion, but I suppose if the stars are a room, then yes.”

“Deal.” You squared your shoulders. “Where are you going to instruct me on a map?”

“Where we were before is fine,” Thorin said stiffly. He seemed to notice that your mood hadn’t quite passed. And no, it wasn’t. For quite some time, because he was still an inconsiderate idiot.

So you let him lead you the way, purely because you didn’t want to admit that you didn’t know your way, and kept your arms crossed the entire time. He spread the map of Erebor out on the wooden table, using a few heavy goblets to hold the worn corners down. And his index finger pressed into the middle of it. “We’re here.”

You stepped a tad closer, peaking at the scribbled words you couldn’t make out. “Okay.”

“Bree is here.” His hand moved further to the left of the page, until you saw the four letters you recognized on the sign outside of the city itself. Bree.

“And Erebor is where the dragon is at,” you guessed.

“Yes.” Though he didn’t seem surprised you caught on that quickly. He cleared his throat, his finger moving past Rivendell, towards a patch of ink marks that looked like someone had been testing out the tip of a quill one too many times. “This is Mirkwood, a forest that is ruled by elves.”

“The elves you really hate.” He didn’t comment. “Okay. So, we have to avoid it?”

“Avoiding the forest could be about six months added onto the trip – six months we can’t afford with our provisions as they are and we’ll be too worn out by then.” Exhausted, low morale. Even the time they had been traveling so far was exhausting and a morale crusher. You had slept about four days straight as soon as you were given a real bed. It had been a gift that had nearly brought you to tears as you laid in its comfort. You had no idea how much you had missed beds until then.

Just thinking about the year ahead, to meet the deadline, and the fact that they were going at a snail’s pace to begin with… it wasn’t looking bright. His strong hands moved across the map, pointing things out to her, showing her a form of measurement to calculate distance. Your fingernail was about a hundred miles or ten to thirty days. And his words were held in a far more patient tone.

“The entire north is Orc land,” Thorin spoke to you, and he swept his hand across the parchment towards the north of the valley and the forests. “Orcs spawn here and there will be whole packs. Keep that in mind. If they know we’re coming, they could even send parties south.” You memorized every word, and you found your anger melting, the more he grunted out a few words, pointing along the map.

“So how long do we usually travel in a day? With the ponies?”

“Around ten to twenty miles."

You nodded carefully. “And by foot, how far will we get?”

“Fifteen is optimistic.” At least a thousand miles separated you from Erebor. And three hundred of them were mountains. “Five would be average in mountain terrain.” You bit your lip, your eyes roaming the map. “My intention was to take the Gap of Rohan,” Thorin confided, continuing. “Take the passage from the south and avoid the forest all together. But we’ve lost time. We couldn’t make that in the time we have now.”

“And we couldn’t wait an extra year,” you agreed quietly. “Otherwise, we’d be in real bad shape.” He gave a nod, a short one as if reluctant to agree they’d be in any bad shape at all. But it would be stupid to disagree to that. Any man would be after three years of traveling with barely anything to eat, and no decent place to sleep.

“I will give you until nightfall to find us a route. We leave as soon as we have a solid plan.”

“Wait, we’re leaving?” you asked, glancing up as Thorin began to walk away. He paused, glancing back at you strangely, as if doubting he could trust you with that information.

“Are you suddenly fond of the elves?”

“No, but… but if we need their help-”

“I will take no help from an elf, on this side of the mountains or the other.” You flinched with the proclamation, and sighed. Stubborn still, you could see. But Thorin walked away, and you were left staring at the map. A feeling of dread built in your stomach. If you chose a wrong path, a path that would put you all into more danger, well… Thorin would most definitely never even talk to you again.

So you traced your fingers on the map, stressed beyond belief, as you carefully measured out each path you could take. You checked and double checked, and by the time dinner drew near, you felt you had a solid plan, but you weren’t too confident in it. You had no idea of the terrain other than what Thorin told you. And sixty years changed a landscape a lot… Settlements could have burst forth in these areas without any knowledge. The Company certainly hadn’t traveled these areas in decades.

“Y/N?” You glanced up, seeing a few members of the Company – Thorin, Dwalin, and Balin. People you felt were his closest friends. You found it strange that he didn’t include his nephews, but gave Balin a small smile, leaving you feeling a little relaxed with him present. He was the nicest, at least.

“Have you found a path?”

“I think so,” you said carefully.

Thorin exhaled, as if already disapproving of it. You bit your lip, as they gathered around. “The quickest way out of here would be through the Mountain pass,” you admitted. “I saw it a few days ago when I was walking around. I mean, it could take us about a month or two to get through the mountains, if we move quick. I think we could manage it if we take enough provisions, keep our coats.” Thorin pursed his lips as he stepped closest to you, and you could swear you could feel the furs of his coat brush your arm. Your mind went blank, and all the anger you felt for him from earlier disappeared instantly.

You could smell a hint of smoke in the furs, as if he had been smoking from a pipe or been sitting too close to a fire. “Even if we could do that, there are avalanches all the time,” Balin said, snapping you out of your mind.

“I know,” you said patiently. “But there are also alternative paths, caves, whatever else. The farther in we get, of course, the more dangerous it will be. But if we don’t go through the mountains, we either go north or go south. And that takes a great deal of time, like Thorin said earlier.”

“And then?”

“Straight through. Old Forest Road, straight to Erebor.”

“Go through the Elven kingdom.”

You flinched at the acid in his tone and glanced nervously towards Balin and Dwalin. “You had to have taken that road to get out of Erebor. It’s familiar, right?”

“Aye, I’ve taken it,” Balin agreed.

You were slightly relieved with that. “If we don’t take it, we’d either stay in the mountains longer, or we’d have to go around, which would also take time. We could go north, but … that’s Orc land. And we’d be slaughtered within a month.”

“A week,” Dwalin said grimly. “A month is too optimistic.”

You swallowed. Oh. Well, there was some faith you had in the other’s fighting abilities. Faith Dwalin obviously didn’t. “It’s a path any of us would pick. If we have Orcs on our tail, then they’d know we’d take that path as well,” Thorin snapped.

Oh. You hadn't… you hadn’t thought of that. You stepped back from the map. “That’s the fastest route I could think of. Unless we could somehow fly our way there, we aren’t getting there any sooner.”

“Oh, wouldn’t that be a sight?” Balin chuckled. “Take back Erebor from the sky.”

You chewed on your lip nervously as Thorin was silent, staring at the map.

“It really is our only way, Thorin, by Durin’s Day,” came Dwalin’s gruff opinion. “We’ve got to hope for the best with the mountains. It’s south enough we should avoid large Orc packs.”

Thorin sighed, as if this route burdened him more than any. “We leave when the moon reaches the highest point. Tell the others. And make sure no one notices.” He glanced towards you, his expression unreadable. “You better be right about this.”

“I hope so too,” you couldn’t help but say wryly. And he shot you a glare before moving away, towards the map again.

He carefully folded it back up, stuffing it into his coat pocket. “Start gathering your things.”

You jumped, nodding immediately and heading towards where you remembered your room being. You miraculously made it and began shoving things into the pack, nothing too exciting. Spare food items that you kept at the bottom, extra clothing in case it got cold or the clothes you were wearing now needed tenative washing, and extra pairs of boots. You had already worn through one pair. There was no telling how many pairs you’d wear out through the entire journey.

Or how long this journey would actually last. There were only guesses and estimates. Your life was in your own hands now.


	3. Closer to My Heritage

You hadn’t realized how grueling walking the mountains would be until your legs started burning by day three. It was a constant hike, a constant trip uphill and an equally as constant trip downhill. But to make up for the perilous hike with a slope threatening death to your right constantly, you rested often. In fact, it seemed every mile, you would rest for an hour, before continuing. The journey was worse than you could have imagined.

And freezing.

You wore every layer of clothing, a coat, and your best boots, but it still couldn’t keep out the chill.

So you kept your mind off the journey with Fili and Kili.

“Well, Y/N, you’re part dwarf, aren’t you?” Kili spoke suddenly as you camped on the fifth day. You glanced up from your huddled form, giving him a look that clearly told him you didn’t see how that mattered anymore. You were nearly frozen to death. You wouldn’t be part anything soon. “It would be a dishonor to your heritage not to teach you some of it!”

“What are you on about, boy?” Gloin asked gruffly.

“Well, we aren’t going to be talking about how nice the sun feels,” Kili insisted. “She’s been traveling day and night with us. What better way to pass the time than teach her Khuzdul.”

Eyes swiveled to you, as if waiting for your response. “Isn’t that a secret language?” Eyes turned back to Kili. “Won’t I… be disrespecting some cultural custom or something I don’t quite understand?”

“Nah,” Kili insisted. “It’ll be fun.” You eyed him doubtfully. “Now repeat after me. Gelek menu caragu rukhs.” A few chuckles sounded around you and you stared at Kili.

“No thank you. I don’t know what that means, but I can tell it’s nothing good.”

And if you had repeated it blindly, there was no telling what kind of insult it would have been.

“It just means you smell like orc dung.” You quirked an eyebrow, interested. “No harm in it, lass.”

You glanced from Bofur to Kili, clenching your jaw. “Say it again.” He did and you murmured it to yourself, working out where your tongue would get tied, and eventually repeated it loud enough to hear. “Gelek man you care aigu rukus?”

Kili grinned. “Close. Gelek menu caragu rukhs.”

You repeated it much better than last time and there were rounds of laughs before suddenly Kili spoke another. It continued well into the night, making you forget about the cold, and instead whatever rude obscenity he could tell you next.

It continued, sometimes not just Kili joining in, but also Bifur with the help of Bofur (for translation purposes). And Kili eventually coaxed the Crown Prince into joining in on the educational fun. “Come, brother, you know more than I,” Kili insisted. “She just finished Khagun menu penu shirumund.”

Fili just sighed. “You’re teaching her only bad things, Kili.”

“That’s not true,” you piped up. “He did teach me how to ask for some soup.”

Fili shot you a look. “And you naively believed him. He really taught you …” He cleared his throat, trailing off. “Something a bit more impolite.”

You blinked a few times, before you understood where he was getting to. “Kili!”

“It was funny!” Kili insisted. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” But you were decidedly embarassed. “Besides, now she’ll know it when someone asks, right? Won’t make any mistakes, will be sure to turn them down, keep that aura of innocence-”

You clenched your jaw. “Kili, I would really stop talking.”

“How about we teach her something useful.”

“Or something for the grump,” you continued. Now Fili looked really apprehensive, glancing towards his uncle who always avoided the lessons, instead standing and looking over the mountain side, as if waiting for Orcs to show. “I won’t tell Thorin,” you goaded. Fili raised an eyebrow, but sighed.

“Fine, but if he finds out I’m helping Kili with this-”

“And Bofur and Bifur, don’t forget them.” He sighed again.

“Fine. But if he finds out, I’ll get a right earful. If I’ll be teaching you anything, you better remember it.”

You gave the blonde brother a wide smile. “Of course I will. I won’t forget. Not when I’ll be saying them often enough under my breath.”

“It’s really not something a lady should be saying at all.”

“It’s a good thing I wasn’t high born, then, huh?” you returned brightly.

And so Fili would murmur under his breath, making sure that Thorin wasn’t in an eavesdropping zone, and by the time she got the swing of things, and could even form insults on her own, they reached a large cave that would finally fit all of them in it.

“Ozirum menu seleku,” Fili said from the cave entrance, you just feet behind him. You repeated it carefully, putting some words together, but the others, were foreign. “You couldn’t forge a spoon.”

A laugh left you and you found it strange how dwarves would insult each other based on their crafting abilities. “And where would I use that?” you asked, your eyes sparkling as you glanced to Thorin in the distance, setting up his bedroll. The cave wasn’t exactly warm, but it would do. At least you weren’t in the wind anymore.

“When you feel like he’s being a complete imbecile.” And Fili’s grin was enough to tell you that he thought it in his head often. You laughed, and it seemed to echo in the small clearing, drawing some attention to you.

Under your breath, you whispered an apology, but weren’t too sorry. “So, often, then.”

“And then there’s Khahum menu rkhas shirumundu.” You quirked an eyebrow as you repeated it. Beards and you were the only word you recognized besides orcs. “Your clan are beardless orcs,” Fili translated at your look. You teetered into a laugh again, and even Kili seemed fond of this one as he stepped past you to hear it.

“Khahum menu rkhas shirumundu!” you repeated, a tad louder this time. A chuckle sounded, and you started, seeing Dwalin passing you. His arm swung out, ruffling your hair and making it even more unruly than it was before. And he gave you a fond look, like he had often started doing the more Khuzdul you learned, much to Dori and Ori’s disapproval. Almost like he wasn’t as weary of you anymore. “Sorry,” you muttered, flushing in embarrassment.

“Not bad for a beginner,” Dwalin commented, and there was a hint of his smirk peaking out from his beard. “Though I wouldn’t go shouting that. Thorin won’t like it.”

“Why do you think I’m learning them?” you returned brightly. You turned to Fili. “Another?”

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” Dwalin interrupted. “You have duty for watch, Y/N. Night, lass.” You sighed, but nodded, returning the well wishes for the night, moving towards the entrance of the cave. And the others all said their goodnights, settling down to sleep. The mountains brought you a lot of watch duties. Mostly because you couldn’t do much scouting. But you hugged your coat and pack tightly to you and stepped to the cave entrance. It would be a long night.


	4. Absolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's POV

She wasn’t exactly welcome, Thorin had expressed that openly. She was first and foremost, a woman. And that included the fact that she was also only part human, part dwarf. An anomaly. Someone that he had never seen before, though he was certain she probably wasn’t alone. The poor girl just didn’t understand that no dwarf had children out of wedlock, nor did they have relationships with the race of men. Dwarves were dying out enough as is…

But the longer they trekked, the more he came to see the dwarf side of her. She was determined – mostly to prove him wrong, but determined none the less. She had bravery – she was able to flick him off or give him a proper tongue lashing, where others like Dwalin saw fit to let Thorin make his own mistakes. But even the rough dwarf was growing fond of her. He could see Dwalin laughing quietly to himself whenever she repeated those awful words. He could see Kili giving him glances every so often as they camped in the mountains, as if making sure he wasn’t going to be throttled.

She could learn whatever she wanted. Even if it was so that she could personally use them on him. If anything, Thorin found the way her tongue caressed the words… well, incredibly suffocating. Even in the frigid cold of the mountains, he felt warm and often had the urge to shed his jacket. But shedding his jacket would reveal just how turned on he was.

No matter how many times they fought, or she glared at him or he at her, he couldn’t help but grow to like her as much more than a travel companion. A fleeting thought he had in the beginning stages was how his sister would ever approve, but for Mahal’s sake, she was going to be his Queen. And he was going to make sure that no matter what, that wouldn’t change.

But he had no idea how to ask her if he could braid her hair. Her bow and arrows were always strapped to her person, her hair was buried under her jacket, and he did not want to be responsible for taking it off of her and making her cold. He figured that would be counter productive. He had tried to ask before the troll attack, nearly three months ago, but that had been a fool’s errand. She had interrupted before he could even get the words out and insisted they couldn’t stay here. Not that she was right or anything, but at the time,  it had been a discouragement.

So Thorin tried again a few days later, but then it had started pouring.

His third and last attempt was the only real civil conversation they had.

It was in Rivendell, over the map. And… he had mucked the beginning of that one up because he hadn’t stopped to consider that she wasn’t education. She worked in a tavern, she was a bastard, and she labored her entire childhood to help out with putting food on the table.

None of that even hinted at an education. And he had made an ass out of himself.

But when they fell into the ravine, and the goblins had surrounded them, he only began to panic when he couldn’t find her. Had she fallen just out of the basket’s reach? Into the darkness below. And then there was the fact that the hobbit was missing, too, and he was sure to have fallen. Thorin had seen it himself. “Where’s Y/N?” Thorin whispered toward Dwalin. And the large dwarf glanced around in alarm as well, but couldn’t seem to find her.

Oh, Mahal. Those curses she had been learning would have been a perfect fit in this situation, that was for sure.

And he still couldn’t find her, even after Gandalf had arrived. “Have you seen Y/N?” Thorin demanded. “Or Bilbo?”

Gandalf hesitated. “Y/N is running the mountain pass to meet us at the other end. Bilbo, no… I haven’t seen. We haven’t time, Thorin, we must fly.”

And so began the nearly day long fight for their lives, running as fast as they could through the continuous crannies of the orc cove. And when they reached fresh air, the relief he felt at seeing Y/N there, looking flushed, out of breath, and snow littered in her hair. But she looked grim.

“Orcs,” she said breathlessly. “I’m maybe five minutes ahead of them.”

“They must be from the others,” Gandalf said. “Run! Everyone run!”

Everyone had to pause for breath in a clearing of trees, and they glanced around, taking a roll of their numbers. How many they had lost.

“Where’s Bilbo?” Y/N asked breathlessly. “He fell with you.”

His angry words of abandonment and disappointment were interrupted as Bilbo appeared. And then the Orcs appeared. Thorin hadn’t imagined much of what he would do if he saw Azog one last time. He hadn’t imagined the ultimate rage he would feel, as he recognized the crippled orc. The monster had a metal claw shoved into his arm, where Thorin had once cut off his hand. And no matter how enflamed the area was, Thorin couldn’t stop himself from jumping down from the tree, his sword swinging as he approached Azog.

But the coward was too little of a man to fight Thorin himself. Wargs and other orcs, instead, outnumbering Thorin. He fell to the ground, and the teeth of the warg as it gripped him was painful, making blinding light appear before his eyes as he glanced towards the tree his kin were on. Would this be how it ended? Would this be how their quest ended for himself? He would never return to Erebor – he would never be king.

Perhaps it was best the treasure rot with the dragon’s corpse.

And just as an orc aimed it’s sword towards Thorin’s neck, his eyes nearing closed as he faced his end, the arrow struck the Orc with a precision of a hunter – someone that only use their bow for hunting. Y/N. Two more followed almost immediately, and Thorin gasped raggedly, his hand straining to reach for Orcrist. But suddenly she was standing beside him, arrows firing as fast as they could towards the enraged orcs a few yards away. But Thorin could not move, the pain was becoming too much. And then he saw darkness, his last vision being her standing over him surrounded by fire, looking like a goddess.

He awoke on rocks, Y/N kneeling over him with Oin, checking for a pulse. And when Thorin gasped for breath, she immediately shuffled away, as if giving him space. “You’re alright, laddie. We’re safe now,” Oin stated brightly. “Gandalf says you’re good to move, whenever you want.” But Thorin could still feel Y/N’s fingers on his skin, checking him for life.

Like she cared or was worried.

“We’re at least a hundred miles east from the mountains. Around the base of them,” she spoke quietly. “The eagles carried us that far. We’re making good time.”

“Eagles,” Thorin groaned, but he sat up. He was soaked in blood. He could see it in not only his clothing, but also in the hair that hung down. His body ached like he had spent a solid week in the forges.

“There’s a river downhill, for you to wash up in,” Y/N said quietly, glancing towards the Company that was already making its way down, Gandalf in the lead. “It’s a bit of a walk, but you’ll make it. Gandalf says that you passed out from the pain-”

Thorin shot her a glare. “I did not pass out.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nice to see you back, almighty leader.” She stood, helping Oin to his feet as well. “I’m going to wash up and take a nice long nap. I think we all deserve it.”

Thorin didn’t disagree. He felt like he hadn’t slept properly in months. Likely because he hadn’t. But between the fall and the wargs… he was fully aware of how his body wasn’t as young as it used to be. But with the help of Oin, the stream looked incredibly welcoming. And it was as Thorin was getting his boots taken off with the help of his nephews that he saw the blood on Y/N’s arm.

“What happened to her?”

“Nasty swing from an Orc,” Kili said. “She’ll be alright. Gandalf and Oin loked at it. She just needs to be careful with it so that it doesn’t bleed everywhere.” It was already bleeding everywhere. It soaked the dirty cream fabric of her shirt as she took her heavy jacket off. Summer was approaching, and unlike on the snowy mountain caps, it was noticeable down here.

Thorin watched as she flushed at something Dwalin said, before Dwalin ruffled her hair. In all Thorin’s years, he had never seen the bald dwarf act that way towards anyone.

“Do you need any help to the stream, Uncle?” Fili asked.

“No,” Thorin insisted. “I’m alright. Go clean yourselves up. You smell like Orc dung.”

Kili grinned. “Gelek menu caragu rukhs.” A chuckle left their Uncle before Thorin even knew what he was doing. And then he was approaching Y/N, his steps slow and careful, as he was barefoot in the rocky shore. But noticing him approaching, Dwalin gave a small nod to her in parting, before turning around, facing Thorin and patting his shoulder. There was a warning look in his eyes.

“She nearly died too, you know,” Dwalin said so lowly that Thorin almost didn’t hear. They made eye contact, before Thorin gave a soft nod in agreement. Yeah, they had all almost died. And she had willingly put herself on the line for him. Dwalin wandered away, leaving Thorin with her. She was giving him an apprehensive smile, as if she wasn’t sure if he was angry with her or happy.

“You’re walking at least.”

“How long have we been flying?” Thorin questioned.

“Nearly three days,” she answered immediately, curtly, as if a fact book entry. “Gandalf says that it was the farthest they could take us without having to stop.” Thorin nodded and she gave him a curious look. “Is there something you wanted or…?”

“I require assistance.” Her eyes widened a bit in surprise at hearing the words from his mouth. “I’m afraid I cannot lift my arm well enough to wash my hair… The others are busy, but I would be… indebted further if you would do so.” The words sounded weak even to his ears. Quite obviously Dwalin had just been talking to him, and was now sitting on a log as he watched Ori and Nori trying to build a fire. Along with Bilbo and Gandalf. And the others were returning from the stream already, meaning that it was empty. Any one of them were available.

But he wished to talk to her in private, and that was the best place.

“I… If you’d like me to,” she said uncertainly. “Of course. I have some soap in my pack. If you’ll give me a minute.” Soap. The girl had soap still. It amazed him. But when she returned, the object in her hand looked to be a brand new piece of soap. “Well… I’m following you, King.”

He gave a wry grimace, but nodded shortly and lumbered past the Company, towards the stream. It was hidden well by the bushes, meaning they would have their damned privacy. She was only a step behind him and as they waded into the stream, the current merely a faint tug. “I’d sit, if that’s easiest for you.”

He only saw her nod, before he shed his cloak, tossing it towards the rocky bank, not caring if it became wet, and groaned as he sat down in the rocky riverbed. It certainly wasn’t as comfortable as the water made it feel. He swiveled so that his back was to her, and she was quiet a moment before she heard him sit behind him.

“I had best start before your hair becomes hard as stone.” Indeed, Thorin could feel it crunch under her hands as she ran water through it. “I.. Though honored, don’t understand why you asked me to do this.”

“I wished to speak to you alone.” She was silent, washing the hair with water before he could feel her hands begin to scrub at the hair laying in her palm with the bar of soap in her hand. Thorin could already see the water turning red around them.

“About what?” she asked after a moment.

“How injured are you?”

“A dislocated shoulder and a severe cut on my opposite arm,” she admitted. “But Oin fixed the dislocated shoulder once we landed. It’s just sore now.”

“I’m sorry… I should not have asked you to do this, had I know it still bothered you-”

“It’s manageable,” she promised sweetly. Or at least he imagined it as sweet. And then she lathered soap in her hands, massaging it into his scalp and he lost all coherent thought as she worked a miracle upon him. If he knew no better, he’d think she was some sort of witch. But alas, she was no witch, just a thief that had stolen something vital to him. “Sorry, what about your heart?”

“I said, my stars,” Thorin corrected immediately, not realizing he had spoken aloud. He cleared his throat, his eyes remaining shut as she rinsed out the soap. And then she repeated, making sure all of the blood was clean before she tapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you.”

She nodded. “No problem. My pleasure-”

“I wondered if I could return… the favor, while I spoke to you.”

“So far you’ve been silent, brooding even,” she pointed out. “So, if you’re angry with me for doing what I did, I would like to know. Otherwise, you don’t need to wash my hair. You’re injured, you said it yourself.” But a new vigor had returned to him, and he felt like he was capable of much more than just washing her hair. But he turned, and gave her a pointed look to turn as well. So she sighed, placing the soap in his palm, and followed his instructions. She was still wearing her clothes, though just one layer, and not the eight she wore in the mountains. He could tell her cloak wasn’t exactly fur lined, but any offer to give her his cloak was shot down when she would huddle close to Fili and Kili, them happy to keep her warm. And he saw the brat nephews wink at him whenever Thorin caught the act happening.

“You wished to speak, Thorin,” she spoke after he finally snapped out of his thoughts long enough to take hold of her hair. It was soft, even when it had black orc blood in it, mixed with her own. “Or have you changed your mind. You don’t have to do this. I was just going to let it soak until the stream took the blood away-”

“It’s faster this way.” She didn’t disagree. He was right. “I am sorry, for doubting you.”

“What? No slew of insults first? I figured, before you admitted you were wrong, it was customary for you to remind me just what you are wrong about. After all, Bilbo got himself an earful.”

Thorin cleared his throat. It was well deserved. Though, she wasn’t too lenient on the insults, either. But he felt that bringing that up would not get anything accomplished. “We started off.. on a rocky foot. And that’s not customary, nor is it very appropriate of me to do.”

“Likely not,” she agreed. “But I don’t mind it all the same.”

“You have proven me wrong. And while I hope you don’t make a habit of it, I do appreciate it sometimes.”

“Dwarf pride,” she hummed warmly. “Yes.” He began to lather soap into the ends of her hair, where the blood was soaked the most. Even the suds were the color of blood. “The Lonely Mountain is much farther than I thought. I never imagined our world was so vast. But from atop the eagles… everything seems so far away from each other. You must have traveled months just to get to Bilbo’s.”

“Aye, but it wasn’t in vain.” He cleared his throat. “I stopped in Bree, before I took for the Shire. You had moved to Bree, had you not?” She started in surprise that he had remembered, and he thanked Mahal that he got it right. He had a fifty-fifty chance of either Bree or East Farthing.

“Yes. At the Prancing Pony was where I worked.”

“How is it that you go from a farmhand to a tavern maid?”

She gave a small shrug. “My mother died, I had no place to belong to. So I moved west, where it was more accepting to be a half-breed. Most of the humans there intermingled with either hobbit or dwarf. I had seen it often enough.” Yet Thorin still couldn’t recall an instance where a dwarf had mingled with a human. Perhaps they truly had been born into different worlds. “I was guaranteed a better paying job and lodgings.”

“And what is it you hope to get out of this quest?”

“Adventure,” she admitted quietly. “My father was from Erebor, my mother made mention before she passed. His family was among the many displaced by the dragon. His mother had been pregnant with him at the time… So he never set foot in the halls, but he told her that was where he came from, where his people originated. And maybe I’m hoping to learn more about him on the quest – about dwarves in general. I know so little. And… I apologize if sometimes I do not always understand references or don’t get why something is done the way it is. I am trying to learn.”

“Hence your Khuzdul lessons.” She was silent a moment.

“You know about those?”

“Hard not to. It’s not every day you hear about how my father was a beardless orc.”

She cleared her throat. “You weren’t supposed to know until I had perfected it and could shout them to you when you pissed me off.” Thorin couldn’t help but smirk.

“I’ll act surprised when that happens.” He closed his eyes as he heard her laugh, happy with the light words and tone. He prayed he was showing the side of him he had always wanted her to see. And it gave him a boost of confidence. “While you know the language, do you know what dwarvish courting customs are?”

“I only know what a dwarf woman looks like from Gloin’s drawings. And she looks exactly like Gimli to me.” Thorin chuckled, her sense of humor refreshing after the months on the road with the men. She provided a unique perspective on dwarves in general.  

“Good,” he said after a moment. And he began to rinse the soap from the ends of her hair, before working on lathering more soap into the top, where the blood wasn’t as thick. “I just would like to say… that for months, I have been watching you be strong and independent. I have watched you save my life, save the entire Company’s life with the Orcs. And throughout it all, you owe us no loyalty. You could have left in Rivendell, but you didn’t.”

“I certainly did think about it.” Though Thorin didn’t blame her on that. He cupped water, dropping it over her head to let the soap begin to rinse out.

“You killed the Orc that had been about to chop off my head. And I am thankful that you did not leave. Because you shot him from over a hundred yards away, thinking I was worth saving.”

“Of course you are!” she said, as if astonished. She turned just slightly as Thorin began using his hands to pull the blood from her hair, as if pulling water from a plant. “You’re the King. And whether we act it or not, a good friend of mine. And that means that you will always be worth saving.” The look in her eyes made him sit up a bit straighter, despite the pain. “Unless, of course, you manage to go mad. In which case, I will throw you to the wargs without thought.”

“I may be the king, but I know that you are worth ten of me.” The words left Thorin’s mouth before he could censor them, and he watched as she swallowed, before turning back around, her gaze dropping to her lap. “I find myself listening to your every word, following your every breath.” The words could not seem to leave him fast enough. “Checking over my shoulder to make sure you are alright, not once, or twice, but multiple times. I watch as you learn with Fili, Kili, Bofur, Bifur… whoever is teaching you Khuzdul. And you shine so brightly. Your eyes are …” Thorin faltered. “You laugh as if we haven’t been on the road for months. I envy it, because I wish to be the one that makes you smile like the sun, and laugh like as if we are tucked away safely at home.”

She turned abruptly in the water, Thorin’s hands drawing away from her hair as she met his eyes. They were shining, just like the stars, and she was searching his expression for something. Thorin waited patiently as she tried to say something. “What … What are you saying, Thorin?”

He cleared his throat, and suddenly ruling a kingdom seemed easier than these words he had to get out. “I would be honored if … if you would wish to court me and accept my courting proposal… That is,” he continued hurriedly as her eyes widened. “If you desire that as well.”

Oh, Mahal. She looked deep in thought, and Thorin felt himself holding his breath, waiting with more anticipation and adrenaline coursing through his system than Smaug appearing for the first time. “You’re serious,” she whispered. “Thorin… I would wish for nothing more.” And Thorin exhaled, relief filling him. “But…” And immediately, he braced himself. “I’m a tavern maid and nothing more… A tavernmaid and a king do not make a good pair. I can't… accept knowing where I will come out in the end.”

As Queen? But Thorin understood where she was coming from. “If you do not wish it,” he spoke quietly, closing his eyes. “Then you may just say so. I will not take offense.”

“I do wish it.” Thorin’s eyes opened slowly, confused. She couldn’t want two things at once. “But I have to turn you down because I cannot rule beside you, should it even come to that. I do not read, nor write. I was born a bastard, a half-dwarf, half-human. And I do not even have a hint about who my father is. You cannot court me, because there is nothing in me worthy of courting a king.”

“Worthy?” Thorin repeated before he could stop himself. He reached for her hand, resting in the water, and held it between them, though she was still twisted around to look at him. “You are worthy of any man or dwarf that asks for you. I am not worthy of you. I have done nothing but put your life in danger. And yet you saved my life. And can ignore everything that has happened in our past, everything I have said spitefully to or about you. Because I was in danger.” She frowned, glancing at their hands. So Thorin switched tactics to make her understand how little her blood meant to him. “My grandmother may have been a lady of the court, but my mother was a handmaiden that had been abandoned at birth in the Kingdom, only to be raised by an elderly miner and his wife.” She swallowed. “It was when she first started waiting on my grandmother that she met my father.”

“Really?”

“A mere servant. Your blood means nothing to me. It is only you as a person that I care for.”

She was silent, thinking it over, before she gave a small nod. “Then I accept your courtship proposal… I just do not wish to get my heart broken. I have seen it break even the strongest of people that came to the tavern I worked at. I have seen love destroy my mother, who was so distraught that my father never came back for her.”

“I will do everything in my power to make sure that I never do that to you.” Thorin’s words were the sincerest he had ever spoken. “I cannot promise to finish this quest alive, but I can promise to try.”

“Just as I can,” she returned quietly. Thorin released her hand suddenly, digging into the soaked pocket of his pants. When he withdrew his hand, he showed her a simple metal bead clasp. “What’s this?” she asked as he pressed it into her hand.

“I made you a courting bead, back in Rivendell.” She glanced up to him in surprise before glancing back down to the bead, inspecting the engravings with her fingers. “I had meant to speak to you of the matter then, but… our egos got in the way.” She smirked lightly, and he was relieved to see she was not still angry over the misunderstanding. “They are for a courting braid, if you would allow me to put one in our hair.”

“A courting braid?” she asked, meeting his eyes once more. Thorin merely nodded. “Is that like what Fili has in his hair?”

“Aye, a courting braid, and a braid from his mother, for protection and good luck.” She felt her lips twitch, but said nothing more. “The beard and the two in his hair are his courting ones. The other two are from his mother.”

She glanced up to Thorin. “How do I put this in?”

“I… I will braid your hair,” Thorin said hesitantly, but he knew he needed to add on. “If that’s what you would like?”

“Of course.” She passed the bead back and turned so that he had better access to her hair. He threw some more water in it before he began to section off a bit of her hair near her temple. And his fingers ran through it, getting any tangles out, before he began to braid it carefully, taking his time to make sure it was even and perfect. It would remain there for a very long time, after all. Until their deaths or their wedding. Whichever came first. And then he slid the bead on, securing it over the end, and her fingers came up to touch it, as if fascinated. “What does it say?”

“Durinsdam.” She glanced up inquisitively, and she looked incredibly seductive, wet from head to toe, and eyes as wide as the moon. “It means a woman of the House of Durin.”

“Your house,” she murmured. She dropped it, before glancing into the water, getting her reflection. “I look awful. But the braid is pretty… thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said softly. “Thank you for accepting. I did not think you would.” She didn’t seem surprised by that add-on. “And for the record, you do not look awful. Merely like an Orc pack attacked you.”

“Not that any of us would know what that would be like.” She touched the braid again. “Are there anythings I need to know about braids?”

“No. They usually aren’t taken out, unless necessary. Most don’t even take them out for washing purposes. But if they become undone, only you or myself can re-braid them.”

She nodded, before glancing up to Thorin suddenly. “I don’t have any beads to put in your hair. That's… what happens, right? I’m assuming so, if Fili has beads from his girlfriend.”

“Aye, but you needn’t worry,” Thorin insisted. She frowned, obviously still worrying. And he found that the fact that she was so hyperaware of it endearing. “Truly, do not worry. You did not know. I will be fine. Wait until we take back Erebor, and then I won’t be so forgiving.” He hoped the joke came across as that, and not threatening. But she chewed on her lip for a few more seconds before giving a warm smile and he relaxed, glad.

“You mean that?”

He gave a nod. “Do not worry of it.”

“Well, I have to give you something,” she insisted. She grinned suddenly, turning so that she was kneeling in front of Thorin, her heels pressing into her backside. And she leaned forward, her hands cupping Thorin’s cheeks. And he became hypersensitive along his beard. He could feel every millimeter of her fingers gripping him. “I have a confession of my own to make. I have found myself interested in you since before the troll escapade.”

Thorin quirked an eyebrow. “You have?”

“You just made me so angry, that I wanted to kiss you.”

He smirked. “Well, I can work on making you angry now.”

“No need, I’ll just kiss you,” she smiled before her lips met his own. She tasted how flowers looked, sweet, lovely with a twinge of innocence. And when she pulled away, her hands did not remove themselves. “I hope that makes up for my lack of dwarf knowledge.”

“More than,” Thorin admitted in a mere whisper. And then he was kissing her again. Her lips an absolution in the nightmares of hell.


	5. Their Haven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW!!!!

Since the courtship began, your bedroll always seemed to end up close to his. He was always sitting beside you for meals. And you never had patrols at night, in fact, you never had patrols at all. It was always just your scouting, and when you asked, he said that you more than did it with your scout work. He always would make sure you got the warmest bowl of soup, or the best piece of chicken. Courting Thorin Oakenshield definitely had its perks. It wasn’t until the tenth month of the journey, at the base of the Misty Mountains, that you began to sleep so close to one another, that you often awoke to him holding you tightly.

And it wasn’t until you reached the river, nearly two months later, that you first consummated your courtship. It had been in the dark of night, with Thorin on patrols, when suddenly you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. You could see him standing by the rocky shore, and you finally had enough of pretending to go to sleep, and walked towards him.

A night under the stars, him murmuring apologies when your first time became painful, his hands making up for the pain, replacing it with pleasure. And the night ended blissfully, with you having him spill out onto your stomach. You had been a bastard child, and the last thing any king needed was a bastard of his own. He seemed to understand your thoughts and decision, for he didn’t question it. And instead he pulled you to him after a wash in the stream, and you laid there, patrol duty forgotten, eyes closed and listening to one another’s heartbeats.

The Company didn’t seem to think it a big deal. Fili and Kili simply gave you guys suggestive winks whenever they could, and Dwalin ruffled your hair as if you were apart of the family far more than you wished – his hair ruffles always tangled your hair horribly making you spend hours in front of the fire untangling them. And the Khuzdul stopped being so obscene, instead turning more education and practical – like asking directions, or plainly the direction.

But it wasn’t until you arrived at Beorn’s home that you and Thorin had privacy for the first time. On the plains, there was always the worry that the company would wake and see you. But in the house, everyone got their own nook or cranny to occupy. And Thorin had found the best one.

It was it’s own room, really. A shed that had seeds, gardening tools, feed for the cattle. And the floor was a smooth stone, that your bedrolls quickly made soft. Though it was still midday, you and the rest of the Company were exhausted. There had been little sleep in the last few days with the Orcs on your trail, and it meant that there was even littler relaxation time with how alert everyone was.

So the small home, even with the bear outside, was a haven. Their haven. You two settled on the beds, the sunlight from the high window streaming in and making the room warm and glowing. It was near the middle of autumn now. And Thorin seemed even more worried the closer Durin’s day approached. His arms held you tightly as you two snuggled up in the room, and his breath was even against your neck, feeling like a familiar comfort.

Once you arrived at the mountain, this would go away. He would be named king, and you … well, you were a half-dwarf. There was no way a half dwarf could be a queen. And though Thorin would kiss you passionately and braid your hair and murmur to you how much he loved you, calling you his amralime, his One, you couldn’t help but worry about it sometimes. Worry about how he would cast you aside to marry a Lady dwarf. A proper one.

You slept deeply, your doubts floating away as his hand splayed out across your abdomen, bringing your back flush against his and you could feel exactly what he was dreaming about against your thigh.

You were awoken to the delicious feeling of his mouth on your neck, his fingers tugging your hair away from it so that he had better access. It was now dark outside, and you could hear the sounds of crickets on the outside of the thin walls. No one else seemed to be up, or you would be sure to hear the sound of conversation in the home.

“Good evening, amralime,” he murmured, having seen you awaken.

“A very good evening, indeed,” you returned quietly. Turning slightly, you shifted so that you were facing him, and he looked glorious. His hair was loose, splayed around his shoulders, and his eyes were dancing in the darkness. Moonlight was the only way you were able to see him. He watched you looking him over, and then suddenly your fingers were tugging at the loose tunic he had remained in while he slept. His heavy coat, his boots, even his darker outer wear was shed. And it was just his thin cream colored shirt and his pants. He helped you pull it off of him, and then his pants, leaving him completely naked in front of you.

“It’s hardly fair that I am underdressed while you still wear clothing,” Thorin said with a wicked smirk coming onto his face.

“Then you will have to fix that, my King,” you murmured as you placed an open-mouthed kiss to his chest. “I am yours to do with as you wish.” Your fingers ran through his thick chest hair, feeling the soft curls tickle against your palm.

“No, tonight I am yours,” Thorin returned. And you glanced up to him. “Instruct me as you will, my Queen.” The way he said it made your belly fill with desire. And you would be lying if you didn’t feel a tad nervous.

“Whatever I’d like?” you found yourself asking and Thorin looked as though he regretted the decision already, but he did not take back his word.

“Anything.” You hummed quietly and moved him so that you were leaning over him, both of your legs straddling him. Your hair fell into your face and Thorin’s hands were immediately rectifying the issue, gripping your cheeks and kissing you hard, as if this sudden boldness was incredibly alluring. He said as much as he released you, and shifted under you, his naked erection brushing against the fabric of your pants. “You’re still dressed though.”

“You just told me that I was in charge,” you reminded him, a hand gently pressing to his lips. He kissed your fingertips, and you gave him a mock-glare. “Don’t go complaining now. My King doesn’t go back on his word.”

“No, he will not,” Thorin murmured.

“I wish to touch you,” you said quietly, and you leaned forward, a steady hand on his chest, so that you could stare into his eyes better.

“Then I will not say no.”

Your fingers slowly traveled from his lips down his jaw, into his beard, before going down the side of his neck. Every inch of skin your fingers touched, your mouth was close to follow. You could feel his gaze on you with rapt attention, and you glanced up briefly, as if asking for his permission before you continued. He said nothing, so you made the assumption that it was acceptable. A finger trailed along his collar bone, across his chest, before lightly stopping when it came to a barrier. A scar. Your fingers roamed it, seeing that it was a thin line, likely from a sword or a scratch from something that had a thin edge. Maybe even a warg or two in his past.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Very much,” you murmured, your lips descending on the imperfection, declaring it perfect in your head, and Thorin chuckled, making his chest vibrate. Your finger then trailed south, across his defined pectorals, the pad of your thumb lightly brushing his nipple, before you began to trace his ribs. Your touch was so feather light, that sometimes you couldn’t even feel his hardened skin, just the warmth that radiated from it. And then a new barrier prevented you from going further. Yourself. Your free hand traveled across the fabric of your leg and you could see Thorin jerk slightly, getting up on his elbows so that he could watch you better. You pulled off the tunic you wore, leaving you exposed to the warm air. Your hands, then, began to roam your own skin, across your stomach and up to your breasts.

You leaned back, removing your steadying hand from his chest, and it joined the other, clutching your breasts, tugging and rolling the nipples between your fingers, and you gasped as pleasure shot through you. Thorin had done this treatment to you plenty of times, but you had never tried it yourself. And Thorin’s moan as he obviously seemed to enjoy the show only made you more turned on.

“Oh, Mahal, you look gorgeous right now…” He shifted so that he was leaning on one elbow, and reached out for you, but you gave him a warning look, accompanied with a sultry smirk. One of the hands kneading at your breast dropping into the waist of your pants, and were quick to find the bundle of nerves that were driving you into a fit of passion. A gasp left you and Thorin was quick to steady your hips as you bucked into your palm, brushing against the bulge under you in the process. He murmured something Khuzdul that only made you feel hotter and even more bothered.

Once you neared the edge of the peak, you withdrew your hands from your own body and leaned over Thorin again, his eyes blazing with the fires of passion. “I want you to make love to me, hard and fast with no end in sight. With no end in waking up from this paradise.”

He closed his eyes, as if the world was ending, as if the dragon was burning him alive. “As my Queen commands.”

You gasped as you were suddenly brought onto your back, and he was leaning over you now, his hands already tugging away your soaked pants. He did not do any foreplay, he did not wait, he just filled you. A cry left you before he kissed you, silencing you as you drowned in the feeling of fullness. You knew the unspoken words before he even whispered them. Don’t wake the others.

“These are thin walls,” he whispered. “I cannot wait to take you in the halls of Erebor, where you can scream my name as loud as you desire, and pleasure yourself for my eyes, and writhe against me as I lick those sweet, sweet lips of yours-”

“Thorin,” you begged, his words driving you just as close to the edge as his thrusts. He was slow, deliberate, and his hands slid up your sides, until they were playing with the breasts that you had abandoned. “Please, I’m so… I’m so close, Thorin-”

His murmured something against your lips in Khuzdul, and combined with a strong thrust, it was your undoing. A soundless cry formed on your lips as you lifted your hips to ride out the sensation. “Mahal,” you murmured as Thorin suddenly gripped your hips, tugging you even closer to him. And his next thrust was hard, powerful, and it made you cry out again as he hit that sweet spot within you.

“Shh, amralime,” Thorin chuckled, but he was obviously affected by the change of pace as well, moaning as your legs went around his waist, pulling him deeper with each thrust. “Or I’ll need to silence you.”

“Please, do,” you murmured, your breath hitching once more. As he had promised, your instructions were followed with swiftness, and his hand covered your mouth as pace grew more frantic, haphazard, and he was growling with khuzdul phrases. As you drew near, gasps left you with each thrust, Thorin’s name a plea to end this torture, to bring you down from this high. His hand moved, pressing against your cheek, and as you gave a cry for your King, his thumb rubbed against your lips, descending into your mouth.

You sucked on it, making Thorin’s eyes squeeze shut, as if holding himself back. As if he was so close, that just looking at you would send you over the edge. But you lightly nipped at his thumb, your back arching as you gave it a particularly long suck. And you were so near, so close to that moment of completion, but he suddenly pulled away from you – hand, cock, and all. And he gave you a passionate kiss, his beard tickling your chin and nose, before his hands gripped your waist.

“Turn over,” Thorin murmured against you. And you did not mind that he was now giving you orders. You did not mind that he was rescinding his invitation to order him about. You could not form more than three words in your head. Oh Mahal Thorin.

“Thorin-” you gasped, as he brought you down on his lap, and he gripped your hips before he lined himself up well enough to penetrate your nearly spent core. “Oh, Mahal-” His hands, with the help of your own pace, lifted you up and down onto him, working at a speed that was frantic. And none-too-soon, the familiar muscle tightness and jerky pace signalled your peak, and you leaned against his chest, riding out the waves of your orgasm as his thumb once more prevented you from crying out like you so desperately wanted to. You felt like jam, your bones mush and your breathing was exhausted. But he slid out of you, his own completion not settled.

Once you caught your breath, you turned to him, clewing on your lip as he reached for himself. “No,” you spoke quickly. “No. My turn.” He was slick from your own juices, so when you pushed him back to lie down on the bedroll, he slid into your mouth easily. He groaned almost immediately, his hands fisting into the fabric of the roll, and you wondered how on earth you were going to silence him.

But as you ran your tongue on his underside, he seemed to solve the issue himself, one of his fisted hands resting between his teeth as he bit down on it. And you sucked, your head going up and down with a speed that matched your own coupling, you could feel Thorin practically throbbing against your tongue. And you hummed as the hand that was not keeping him silent went to your hair, guiding you just as well.

“For fuck’s sake,” Thorin groaned. “Y/N…” You couldn’t help but giggle, swirling your tongue around his head, and then pulling him into your throat with one final suck, and your hand gently squeezed the sack right near your face. And he was done, his groan of completion the only warning before the salty liquid shot into your mouth. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but you swallowed it all the same, pulling him out of your mouth and kissing his head, before you sat up, reaching for your discarded shirt to wipe at your face.

“No,” Thorin spoke hoarsely. You paused, and after a moment, he sat up, kissing you for all you were worth, not seeming to mind his own seed on your lips. “You have never done that to me before.”

You gave him a small shrug, biting your lip as he stared at you in wonder. “Anything to bring my King pleasure.”

He didn’t disagree. “An act that brought me nothing but, amralime. Thank you.” You merely kissed him once more, before reaching for your clothing again. As you dressed, Thorin began to work on it as well, his tunic coming on first, before he slid his pants on. He reached for his jacket, and paused at picking it up. Instead, he reached for something in the pocket. When he turned to face you, you saw that it was the key to Erebor.

“You had best keep that safe,” you murmured. “They won’t be making copies of that anywhere near here.”

“And will you?”

“I don’t know how to make copies-”

“No, keep it safe.” You blinked, confused. But he slid the cord it was on around your neck, and the heavy key dangled between your breasts, atop the tunic you were wearing. “I trust that you will.”

Your hands carefully reached up to touch it. This meant far more than any map. A mountain could be found standing by its lonesome. But a key… no door could be opened without a key. “Thorin, I-”

“Shh, wear it,” Thorin murmured. “For safe keeping. You may not keep it, though. I require it back.”

You laughed quietly, gripping his beard as you kissed him one last time. “I will guard it with my life, amralime.” His eyes held all of the emotions that he did not need to say.

“I love you,” he said softly, and his arms embraced your waist, holding you so close, that you were not sure any space separated you. “To Erebor and beyond.”

You felt a flush touch your cheeks as you tucked your head into his chest. “And I love you, my King. Far, far beyond Erebor.”

And there was no doubt in your mind, that no matter what he did at Erebor – if he did truly cast you aside as you feared – then you would at least have one piece of him to hold onto. These moments.


	6. Something Precious to Me

The Elven King of Mirkwood stood with a prominent air about him as he surveyed the Company. Thirteen dwarves and you, a half-dwarf that stood out amongst them. You were as tall as Dwalin, but you lacked what the others most clearly had - a beard. You had not inherited the dwarrowdam trait from your father, instead taking after your human mother. Though you still had the traits of working with your hands that the dwarves prided themselves in. And instead of the stocky build of most dwarves, you were thin, lithe. Far better at a bow, like Kili, than an axe. And your years of tilling the fields in your long, forgotten home had given you a strength that you otherwise wouldn’t possess. It was your strength that had allowed you to stay with the Company, even though it was considered bad luck for a woman to travel with a group of men.

Yet because you were human, you had the ability to travel faster, to be a scout in the prospect of the dangers Thorin knew many would try to intercept his quest to reclaim his homeland. And it was because you were part human that the Elven King surveyed you the longest.

And if all else failed with Bilbo, you were their last hope at tricking the dragon. Or sneaking past him.

The King’s eyes lingered on you the longest, and when the others were sent away to the dungeons, Thorin was the only one to stay behind. You were given your own cell, away from the others, and it was quiet. Certainly the most quiet that you had ever had in the months of the entire quest. You could only hear the faint protests as the elves disarmed your fellow Company. You were compliant, handing over your quiver of arrows, empty that it was, and the carved dagger that your mother had given you.

“I would very much like that dagger back,” you told the elf quietly. “If I get the chance to have it back.” The blonde elf, barely a man it looked like, stared at you a moment, before holding out his hand again. “I have no more weapons,” you replied honestly. “Just my own hands.” He raised an eyebrow, as if assessing whether or not you could really be considered much of a weapon. Though thin, you were strong. You were often underestimated. Your fellow Company had even underestimated you when you first met.

“You will stay here until commanded otherwise.”

“I didn’t think I’d have much of a choice on that matter, but thank you for the warning.” Your tone was a tad sarcastic, but the elf didn’t seem to notice. So you sat in your cell silently, listening to anything you could around you. Straining your ears, you could just make out the sound of gates closing. Thorin, then. So, they hadn’t reached a deal - king to king.

You weren’t sure how much longer you were alone, as the sun couldn’t have been your guide down here, but you were interrupted by the cell door opening and the blonde elf was back again, his lips pursed. “The King wishes to speak to you.”

An audience? It was … unexpected. The only royalty you had ever spoken to were the Durins, and … well, that didn’t count. They were more travel companions than royals at the moment, and in all honesty, Thorin had yet to be crowned King. He was still a Prince until coronated.

But you followed the guard blindly up the never ending stairs until you reached the very same platform that you had been sent away from. The throne stood prominent amongst all the wood, and the gracefully clad king was lounging there, almost angrily.

“A half-dwarf, half human,” King Thranduil spoke smoothly. “How… interesting.” You chose not to speak, not really knowing what you could say. “What is your name?”

“Y/N of East Farthing.”

“East Farthing,” he spoke as if he had heard of it. Perhaps he had. “Near Rivendell, then?”

“My village had traded with them frequently, yes,” you replied cautiously.

He stood fluidly, and moved towards you, and you straightened, subconsciously. You were dirty, covered in not only spider web remnants, but also forest, Orc’s blood, grime, sweat. You hadn’t bathed in so long that you wondered how the elf king could stand so close to you. “And how is it that you came upon a group of dwarves, if you come from a human community?”

“Gandalf the Grey,” you decided to answer, honestly.

“Gandalf,” he murmured. “Interesting. And was it he that sent you on this foolish quest to wake the dragon and ensure destruction and ruin?”

“Wake the dragon? I don’t believe that was his intention. But to reclaim Erebor, yes.”

“To retrieve the Arkenstone,” Thranduil corrected. “That is why you are going to Erebor. To steal the gem from the dragon and to leave, making him the rightful king.” You swallowed. Well, that is what Thorin wanted to do, but if the dragon was dead before they got there, it would be a reclaiming. But he couldn’t rule without the gem. It was as simple as that. And if he had Bilbo sneak the gem out, then he would have the armies of his brethren fight against the dragon with him. It didn’t quite make sense to you, as there was nothing that could be done about a dragon.

But Thorin had it figured out and you trusted him to do it well. That was why he was the King, after all.

“To reclaim Erebor,” you ground out, your patience wearing thin.

“And what is it to you? This strange home that you have never seen nor step foot in,” Thranduil wondered aloud. His hand went to your hair, and you winced. Your only dealings with elves had been Lord Elrond and his lot, and that was after you had joined the quest. You didn’t have the built up animosity that Thorin did, but you had heard stories of Thranduil’s refusal to help the dwarves.

The pale, long fingers touch the braid in your hair, half hidden by the mop of the rest of your hair. And he rolled the bead in his palm, reading the etchings Thorin had spent weeks carving into the sides. Durinsdam.

“Which Durin, I wonder?” Thranduil spoke quietly.  How dare he touch your courtship braid?

“ _Ishkh khakfe andu null_ ,” you spat at his feet, and the smirk on his face was one you couldn’t decipher.

“Well, that answers that question. Your lover said the exact words to me before I sent him to the dungeons to rot.” You clenched your jaw. “Or should I say your King?” You made no move to speak. “I will offer you a deal.”

“I do not care for any deal you can offer.”

“You had best not throw my generosity in my face, or you will not see it again.” His face or his generosity? You did not dare ask, just waiting for him to speak. Life in a cell did not appeal to you, not after all that you had been through. “I will offer you and your friends to be released from my cells, in return for a single night with you.”

You fought the recoil that was clearly showing on your face. He dropped the braid, but did not release the bead. “I will not sleep with you, King or not.”

Thranduil’s face did not show surprise as if he was expecting this. “A shame, considering it is your only passage out of here. Perhaps you had best think on it? I will give you two hours. In which time, I expect an answer. And choose wisely. I will not ask again.”

As the guard moved to take you away, Thranduil’s grip tightened on the bead, letting it slip from your hair into his palm. The outraged gasp left you and you gripped the end of the braid tightly, to keep it from unraveling. “Give that back! You have no right!” 

“Your King has taken something very precious to me. So I will take something very precious from him.” The bead disappeared into his palm and your eyes watched it closely, despair filling your belly. Thorin would be furious. Beyond furious. A courtship braid and bead were precious - they meant the world to both dwarves. And though you weren’t fully a dwarf, you understood the severity of such an item. It was a symbol of love. A symbol of devotion. “I think it is time you think.” As he spoke his last command in elvish, you had no choice but to go wherever the elves took you, and they forced your hand from your hair, and you could feel the braid unraveling as they dragged you down to the dungeons.

By the time you were thrust into a dark cell, dug into the hard wood of a tree, you were crying. You heard the gate clink shut and the sounds of a guard’s footsteps remaining stationed outside of the door. Likely for you to make your decision. You sank to your knees, the sobs escaping you at such a rate that you were hiccuping now.

“Amralime? Did he harm you?” an angry voice demanded. You gasped, glancing up sharply to see Thorin seated not even a few steps away from you. You two were placed in the same cell, and Thorin pushed himself towards you. “What’s wrong, amralime?”

“I told him to  _ishkh khakfe andu null._ ”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, pride shining in his eyes. “Who knew that Fili and Kili would be so useful?” You hid your face from him, feeling the shame burning bright on your face. You still remembered the moment he had first given you the braid. You had been soaked to the bone with Orcs blood following the Orc attack that had nearly claimed his life. And once the Eagles had landed, he had told you that he felt nothing but gratitude for you killing the Orc about to kill him. And then he had washed the blood from you hair, your arm too injured to wash yourself. And though you had been clothed, it had felt far more intimate than you cared to think of in such close proximity to him. He had whispered his feelings for you, and despite you expressing doubts - no King needed a half-breed wife, he had insisted that you were his One. And asked if he could put a braid in your hair.

The moment meant so much to you. And yet Thranduil had ripped away the token of the moment from you. Your fond reminder, as you rode through the night and needed strength. All it took was a reach into your hair to warm you if you felt cold.

Thorin’s hand brushed your hair away from your face, so that he could get a good look at you, and he pulled you into him, his hand running once more through your hair, before he froze.

“Amralime?”

“He… he took it,” you choked out. “And he refused to give it back. He says that you stole something precious to him, so he would take something that meant something to you.”

And as you glanced up, Thorin had closed his eyes in anger. His fist clenched and he spoke through gritted teeth. “Damn him.”

“Thorin?”

“”He accuses my grandfather of stealing jewels from him. We did no such thing. He gifted them to my grandfather, and they are in the mountain.”

You stared at him, the tears making his face blurry, but you spoke quietly. “And he wants them back? Did he ask for them?” Hope filled you. Perhaps Thorin would reconsider in hopes that you wouldn’t have to consider your own deal.

“They were a gift to my grandfather. They do not belong to him any longer. I will not owe elves any favors.”

“But if you promise to return them, perhaps he’ll release us, let you claim Erebor.”

Thorin stared at you, as if you were insane. “He will not receive them. Not after this.” His fist clenched around your hair and it drew your attention to it again. You stared at the wavy hair where the braid had been. It was in Thorin’s hand, smooth and untangled. And he spoke the longer you stared at it, wishing it to record into a braid. “He may take the bead, but he will never take you from me.” Thorn’s fingers easily rebraided it, and he secured it without a bead, ensuring that it couldn’t be undone again. “You are my one,” Thorin whispered. “And that will not change.”

And yet the guilt filled you with the information you hadn’t had a chance to tell him. How Thranduil had offered your freedom, all of their freedoms. Thorin would obviously not give the King what he wanted, but you… you could give Thorin what he wanted most of all - Erebor once more.

“I …”  You kissed him lightly, before pulling away. “He offered me a deal, one that will give you a free road to Erebor, if I accept.”

“Do not accept any deals from him. I will not owe favors to an elf, Y/N.”

You closed your eyes. He was so stubborn. “So you would rot in this cell and never see Erebor again?” He was quiet. “You would let us die here because of your pride? Erebor is your home, Thorin. Your kingdom’s seat. And you deserve to sit there once more.” Opening your eyes, Thorin was still quiet, glaring at your hands. “Abandon your pride and let this Elven King get his gems back, if that’s what he wants.”

“And what did he demand of you, for your deal?”

You lowered your gaze, unable to look in his direction. “He has offered one night with him, and he would set us all free in the morrow.”

Thorin’s grip tightened on your hands. “Absolutely not.”

“Obviously not,” you spoke quietly. “But if you do not see sense and ask him for a second chance - promise to return the jewels, then we will have no choice.”

Thorin’s eyes darted to the guard, before he spoke quietly. “Bilbo is still somewhere in the forest. If he finds us, he can let us out.”

You scoffed. “Thorin, do you hear how ridiculous that sounds? Even if he managed to get into the Kingdom, he would have to find us, and then spring us from these cells. Not even an experienced burglar can do that. I have faith in Bilbo, but I do not think that it will be possible to achieve such a task without highly alerting the elves.”

“You will not spend a night with the Elven King.”

You winced. “Than what will happen? We will die here?”

“You wish to sleep with him?”

“No!” you ground out. “But I do not wish for any of us to die here, least of all you. You need to reclaim the mountain before Durins day approaches-“ But he was angry. “Thorin, you are my One, just as I am yours. But you must see sense.”

“Sense? Sense!?” he cried. “You talk of sleeping with elven filth-“

“I talk of seeing us to our homeland,” you returned sharply. “I do not like it just as much as you.” But you took his cheeks, the scruffy beard under your palms as you forced him to meet your tear filled eyes. “I love only you. I yearn for only you. I beg for only you to touch me. I only wish for you to see me at my most vulnerable. And I wish only to stand by your side, and to bear your children, and to be with you until the end of our days.”

“Then you will not go to him.”

“Then we will never go to Erebor.”

“He will change his mind soon enough, if he wants his gems.”

“He has an eternity to outlive that dragon,” you spoke exasperated. “He will get the gems whether it’s now or in four hundred years.” Thorn glanced away towards the guard. “And he can claim a lot more than gems when you and all the heirs of Durin’s folk are dead.” Thorn’s jaw clenched as he knew the truth of your words. “I love you, Thorin. But I will not sacrifice everything this quest meant just because of wounded pride-“

“Then go to him. But do not expect to come back to me afterwards.”

You stared at him, and his words were angry, but sincere. “Thorin-” But he pulled himself away from you, retreating into the cell to sit in the far corner, leaving you near the door. You did not move, yet sat there, staring at him, waiting. Watching. He made no further acknowledgement of your existence.

“I do not want you to go to him.”

You looked up. You didn’t know how long it had been, but the light that reached as far into the dungeon as you were, was now gone. It was likely late evening. Your time was running out. Your fingers had been gingerly touching the braid in your hair, and running over the grooves and the divvets of each strand as it wrapped around another. It felt light without the bead that used to adorn it. Thorn was staring at you now. You weren’t sure how long he had been watching you, but he looked pained.

“I don’t want to go to him either.”

“Then we will stay here and wait-“

“Thorin,” you said quietly. He winced, as if you had slapped him. “I will not like it.”

“And if you do?”

“There is no one for me but you.” Thorin squeezed his eyes shut. “We made that promise to each other, when we were at Beorn’s home, when we confessed our love for one another. Do you remember?” He didn’t speak. “It was our first night alone as one. You filled me with so much love that I could scarce breathe, it hurt my heart so much. And you whispered to me that night that you loved me for the first time. You made a promise.”

“I still love you.”

“And I you. But I have no more time. If I don’t give the Elven King the answer that will set us free, we will never be free.” He hung his head and you moved towards him, cautiously, before you sat at his side. “I love you, Amralime. But I must do this for your sake.”

“I do not want you to.”

“We don’t have a choice anymore. If Bilbo had been coming, he would have been here by now. He could be killed by those spiders, for all we know. We have no idea where he is.” Thorin seemed to have forgotten about the spiders. “Forgive me for this.”

“I don’t know if I can bear it.”

“Then I’m sorry,” you said quietly. A small kiss touched his cheek, just above his beard, and you pulled away, just as the guard moved away from the gate. You sprung to your feet, grabbing the guard’s arm while you called a hurried. “Wait!” The guard halted, and the nearly perfect features glanced back at you. He was the white blonde elf, looking much like Thranduil, with icy blue eyes. Perhaps a kinfolk. “I’ve made my decision. If it not too late, tell the King that I will accept the terms of his bargain, and in return, he will release all members of the Company tomorrow.”

The elf stared at you, and you worried for a moment that perhaps they didn’t understand what you were talking about, or that you were too late, but the elf finally gave a nod, pulling open the cell door. You dared a glance back to Thorin, but he did not glance your way. And that was the last you saw of him that night as you were whisked away to the chambers of the Elven King of Mirkwood.


	7. A Whispered Promise

The morning in Mirkwood was unlike a morning outside of Mirkwood. There were streams of a glowing light that touched the trees around the bedroom. If there was one thing you could see in the morning light that was different in the dark, was the way the rooms in the King’s chambers were not walled, but instead open. The bed was placed atop the base of a tree stump, really, an ancient tree stump that had to be thousands of years old. You could see the ancient rings grow in size the further from the center of the room it became. And your eyes darted around the golden wooden furniture, seeing the many trinkets that the Elven king kept hidden away. The walls, if they could really be called that, were a few feet from the floor. The gap, as you knew from last night, were stairs that came up like it was the highest room on a tower. And as you dared a glance up, you saw it was all made of trees. Their leaves provided a canopy of golden light.

You had never seen nature bend to the will of a living being like this before. You stared up at the ceiling, wondering if you would see the sky, but there seemed to be no breeze, and the air smelled more of pine up here than it did in the cells - where it was crisp water and stone.

Looking around you, you could see that you were alone. The Elven king must have slipped from your presence sometime after you had fallen asleep. It had been a fitful rest. You had asked if you were to leave once the “meeting” was over, but he had seemed amused by the question, stating, “A night is a night. Sleep here and return to your King in the morning.” And when you knew there was no choice in the matter, you had laid down under the covers, your back to the King, and closed your eyes, doing your best to keep the tears from leaking. But you could not help one or two from escaping. You had betrayed your One, and knew that he would not forgive you for this.

He had nearly said as much. Sleep had not come easy. You could feel the King’s presence beside you and did your best to ignore him. Closing your eyes now, you took a deep breath, before you pulled yourself from the bed. It did not give so much as a squeak, proving to you it was of a fine make. You wondered how long you could set it on fire for, before you were thrown into the dungeons. It seemed to be mocking you, reminding you of your betrayal. So you moved away from it, towards the large floor length mirror whose frame seemed to grow out of the floor, as well.

In its reflection you could see what you had been dressed in. A cream colored dressing gown that reached the floor and pooled around you. The thin straps hung loosely from your shoulders, and you couldn’t see the bare feet from underneath the hem. It was lovely on you, truly. And it fit as though it were made for you. A half-dwarrowdam, half-human. It had been given to you after the bath the elven guard had made you take to rid you of your stench and filth from the quest thus far.

On your skin, you could see the pale pink scar of your encounter with the Orc, the encounter that had brought you your king in the first place. It still hadn’t healed in its entirety, but it was close. Yet, the more you could looked at yourself properly in the mirror, for the first time in months - no, the better part of a year, you didn’t look any different than when you had set off. Your thick dwarfish hair still tangled down your shoulders, and to your waist. The braid from Thorin, that he had given you to replace your forcefully unraveled one, held fast. And you touched it gently now, your fingers running along the length of it, reminding you, yet again, of the dwarf sitting in the cell beneath the forest, and tears built in your eyes.

You had to remind yourself again that this had been the right thing to do, even though it didn’t feel like it. You had to ensure that Thorin reached Erebor in time for the door to be revealed. Otherwise it would be for nothing. You had done this for Thorin. Your love. And perhaps he didn’t understand that now, but maybe one day he would. You had chosen to accept the demands so that the quest wouldn’t end in a cell. A sacrifice had to be made, and only you were able to make it.

You inspected your skin, wondering if there was some evidence left behind of the night before, but there were no bruises, nor pink love bites. The King, if anything, had been careful in leaving your skin unmarred with his gentle touch. And unmarred it may be, Thorin would no doubt find some evidence of the night that had transpired. The King had been kind to you, seeming to understand your reluctance - though surely it wasn’t that difficult to see - and had done his best to not only make it pleasurable for you, but satisfying. And you would be lying if you said that you hadn’t felt well sated. But it was a secret you would never tell Thorin, and it was a night that would never be repeated.

The sound of fabric against the wooden steps alerted you of a visitor. You first spotted the crown in which he wore, made of the very trees his realm consisted of, and then his pale hair, like moonlight. You turned sharply, and felt a few tears fall from your eyes, but did not move to wipe them. You could see him in the mirror as he reached the last step, an ornate oak box in his hands. He met your gaze in the mirror, speaking plainly. “Surely you do not still weep for that dwarf. I have made the promise not to kill him, and have told you that you will see him shortly.” But it was the look Thorin, or the rest of the company, would give you that made you weep. Not the distance. “Unless he cares nothing for you now?”

“I knew the risks going into this deal,” you spoke calmly. “I kept up my part of the bargain, now you must let us go to keep up yours.” Your voice carried the steel edge of a sword and he merely raised an eyebrow, as if finding it amusing that you were giving him orders.

“In time,” he spoke evenly. If there was anything your King and this King had in common, it was their speech. “What is a few more hours?” A few more hours meant safety, putting your enemies behind you. There was no telling how far the Orcs were from them, if they had followed at all. You just knew that you were being hunted by them. “You must first eat breakfast before you rejoin your dwarven friends who openly speak of plotting to murder my kin.” When you glanced to him, face to face, his eyes took in the tears on your cheeks before he strode past you, setting the oak box beside the mirror. He stepped back a second later, gesturing for you to open it. “Inside is a token of good faith, proof that I will keep my end of the bargain.”

You wiped at the tears, willing no more to fall, and hesitated before you straightened your shoulders. Taking a step in the boxes direction, you placed your hand along the lid. It was warm, from the King’s hand, and the carvings of flowers and leaves felt rough under your fingers. But you lifted the lid, and the gems inside the box glittered so brilliantly, even in the morning light, that you squinted to see better. “They are gems of pure starlight,” Thranduil spoke from behind you. You stared at them, once your eyes adjusted, awed. When he spoke again, you quickly looked back at him, wondering why he was showing you the most priceless thing in your life. “They are yours, if you promise to find a set like them in the catacombs of Erebor that were stolen from me, and return them.”

The lid snapped shut so harshly that Thranduil jumped slightly, and you were glad that you surprised him. “You are paying me like a cheap common whore?” you spat in his direction. He seemed to be taken aback by your foul language. You had no been raised in a proper home, nor did you care for being treated the same way your mother had after you had been born - like an object men could pay for in order to get what they wanted. “I did not do this to be paid. I did this to save those I care about from an eternity in your cells, so that they may see their homeland once more. I did not do this to be given the gems and gifts as if I must be paid for my  _services_.” You spat out the last word like it was acid and the King’s eyes darkened.

“I do not give them to you as a method of payment, but rather a sign of good faith from my kingdom.” His jaw clenched and you curled your fingers into a fist. “Though, if you should feel you need a payment, I’m sure there is an arrangement that can be made.” You glared at him, though, and gestured wordlessly to the box, demanding an explanation. “The necklace is very precious to me, yes, just as the gems in the mountain are. You may keep the necklace, but I ask for the box of gems in the mountain to be returned to me. Your King refused, but I ask you, as I feel you are more reasonable to bargain with.” More reasonable to bargain with? What did that mean? Sure, Thorin was prideful, but he did not back out on his word.

“And why do you care for them?” you spoke, refusing to let the embarrassment from your outburst show. A misunderstanding, sure, but a blatantly obvious conclusion.

He stared at you long and hard, as if contemplating ending the bargain now and sending you back to the cells himself, but at long last he spoke. “They belonged someone very dear to me that I have lost. And it would mean a great deal, as a sign of good faith from your King, to be given them back. Once they are mine, I will vow my support to your kin, should there ever be a war or battle that you need my warriors for.” These gems meant so much to him, that it meant he would side with them in war? Surely Thorin could overlook their animosity to welcome such a bargain. But you knew Thorin. He would no back down on his hatred for the elves.

“He will not return them to you, especially now,” you spoke, knowing it to be true. Even if Thorin was angry with you, and banished you from the Company, he would not let the gems ever come to the Elven King’s hands.

“Which is why I am assigning you the task of retrieving them.” Stealing them, then. You felt your eyebrows lift in surprise. He saw your astonishment and continued. “Once the dragon has been slain, of course, as I am certain it did not perish in time. I give you two months of time to retrieve them for me. If you do not complete the task in that amount of time, or if you should perish by dragonfire, then I will send my kin into that mountain and retrieve them myself, and take this necklace from your charred corpse.” And he was quite detailed in what incineration looked like.

You shivered at the image and glanced back to the box that stored the necklace. “And if Thorin should banish me from the Company before I even step foot outside of your kingdom?”

“Then I will have to bargain other ways.” You closed your eyes.

“What you’re asking of me is to betray my amralime not only once, but twice. To take these gems in secret and to give them to you. This task is near impossible. Even if I could get to the gold, and even if the dragon were slain or dead upon arrival, though that isn’t what our quest is for, there is a sickness that lies on that treasure. And if I were to even find it in the vast halls that it could possibly be stored in, the chances are slim that I would even be allowed to leave with it. Someone will fall sick, and someone will notice me trying to smuggle out gems as brilliant as these.”

“And that someone will no doubt be your precious dwarf. Do you think that once he claims that mountain, he will not befall the sickness like his forefathers?” You knew there was a possibility. The sickness was strong in his family, and it had been so strong that it had attracted a dragon to the den of gold. “I require them by the end of the two months, or a raven with your expected delay.” Betray Thorin twice? It was a lot to ask of you. “It will mean our aid should there ever be a war. And our promise to defend your kingdom should there ever be an Orc attack. Just last night there were a number of Orcs attempting to infiltrate my kingdom.”

So they had followed. “And did they succeed in crossing your borders?”

“Obviously not.” It was an awful lot of faith he was putting on you as well. The gems clearly meant a great deal to him, and were priceless. If you even damaged them, or lost them…

“In addition to our release by noontime today, I request that we be given enough provisions for not only the journey and camping at the mountain until Durin’s day, but also weapons in which to protect ourselves from the Orcs, should they follow us to the mountain.” You glanced back to the King, seeing him consider your counter. He had an appraising eye, as if he didn’t expect bargaining from you. “And you swear to help us in any time of need. You have abandoned the dwarves once, I will not stand for you to break your word and abandon us again.”

“Very well. You have my agreement and my vow. And my gems?”

You took a deep breath, before giving a small nod. “Thorin is a prideful man, but I know in my heart that Thror likely kept these gems from you in his sickness.” Thranduil stared at her, waiting for you to verbally agree. “I will do my best with the opportunities I am given. At the end of the two months, I will ride to your boundaries and expect to be met at the gate by yourself. I promise to give them to you.” The last of your words were near a whisper, but a whispered promise it may be, it was still binding.

“You have experience with deliveries?”

“I’m a scout,” you said evenly. “I am always the first to any gate.” He gave a nod, however, agreeing with your terms. “I also want my bead back for my hair.  _As a sign of good faith_.” You were mocking him, and he knew it.

“You will receive it once you finish the deal.” You frowned, but knew it was more than fair. If he gave it to you now, there was no incentive to finish his side of the bargain. “Your clothing will be brought to you and you may change here, before you rejoin your Company in the throne room.”

“I wish to bathe first,” you returned.

“Do you ever not bargain?”

“I prefer to call it not backing down.” He acquiesced. “Will we be given horses?”

“Ponies for the halflings.” You glared at him, but he continued. “A horse for you, yes.”

It was generous. Extremely generous. And a dark part of your mind wondered if it was truly for generosity’s sake, or if it was for you - to pay you. You gave a nod. But you dared not speak out of turn again. Even if he was amused, you knew that his patience would wear thin, and fleeting would be his generosity. So, politely, you stated, “Thank you, your Highness.”

“If you were an elf, you would be a great addition for my court.”

You hummed, stepping away from the box. “Thankfully, I’m not an elf.”

“Nor are you a dwarf. Tell me, how is it that the dwarf King Under the Mountain somehow convinced a half-human half-dwarf that they will marry?” They were the same doubts you had in the beginning. But Thorin convinced you that he would only love you. That you was his One, and therefore you two would marry. Being someone’s One meant marriage. But when Thranduil spoke, it seemed to reawaken those fears. “Do you think that you will be accepted?”

“Who are you to judge who Thorin takes as a wife?”

“So he has asked to marry you?” You were silent. No, Thorin said it explicitly, but you always assumed…  “Ah, I thought so. Do you know of the Durin marriage customs?” You bit your lip, giving a small shake of your head and Thranduil gave an ‘ah’ before he turned from you, moving towards his bed. “Well, then you would be interested to know that the chosen wife or husband of a Durin, for generations, has been tested on political matters, as well as private ones, in order to ensure that she is fit to rule as regent, should the King die suddenly. Your performance on these tests, as you would be marrying the king himself, is incredibly important.” Tests? Thorin mentioned nothing about tests. “In fact, if you fail to produce children in a timely manner, you can expect that his sister, Lady Dis, will move for your annulment and he find a suitable wife to bear him proper Durin children.”

“He made no mention of this to me, which leads to me to believe you’re lying in hopes to plant seeds of doubt in my mind.”

“Perhaps,” Thranduil admitted. “Or perhaps he never intended for you to be his wife in the first place. Were you born in a court? Born even knowing who your father was, should be my true question. Though noble birth has no meaning in Elven marriage customs, it does in dwarven.”

“I am his One,” you replied stiffly, but no, you hadn’t been. You knew neither your father, nor court customs.

“Words are empty unless acted upon.” You chewed on your lip. “By giving you your demands, I am acting upon my words. And by giving me mine, you are acting upon yours. Therefore, I think we are more honest with each other than you are with your own king. And with honesty, I ask that the hobbit I found in my halls be joining your company. I do not want him here.” Bilbo.

“He’s apart of our company. We thought him lost to the spiders, but he must have found his way here.” The King merely quirked an eyebrow. “I wish to have my bath, and then I will take my leave.”

“Be sure not to forget your starlight,” Thranduil spoke as he moved towards the stairs. “Or how else would I repay you for that marvelous night?” Now you knew that he was simply saying things to spite you. Which meant that what he said about Thorin wasn’t true, surely.

* * *

Your bath was quick, and the Elven maids washed you for you in the places that your arms could not reach. They massaged your scalp, washing your hair with ease, and were extremely mindful of your braid, which instead filled you with doubts, not love. What Thranduil spoke of, it would never have stuck with you if you hadn’t said the same thing earlier. You were not a high-born dwarf. Your father had been a traveling dwarf, and your mother had been a tavern maid.

You were not Queen material. You didn’t know which spoon went with soups, which fork went with greens. You barely could curtsey without tripping over your feet. And you weren’t… well, very kind with your words. You were blunt, spoke your mind, and never took no for an answer. It was why Thorin claimed to have loved you.

You were given breakfast in your bath, greens, a few choice meats, and a glass of water that did nothing but make you thirstier. Smelling fresh, and successfully ridding yourself of any evidence of the Elven king, you were walked to the throne room, memorizing the path should it be necessary. Your clothing from your quest had been washed and they felt so much lighter than they had in months. You felt clean. And that was hard to come by on the road. The thick key that had been entrusted to you was placed in your hands by an elf maiden, and you said nothing as you slid it over your neck, tucking it back into your tunic. You had taken it off for the night, but had made the maiden swear to Mahal that it would not be lost. The poor elf had probably thought you had plans to kill her if it wasn’t.

Your hair, though slightly damp, was the first thing to be bound by a leather cord, the braid still in your hair, visible to anyone that looked at your hair closely. You hated riding with your hair down. It obstructed your view in the wind, and it tangled horribly when you camped for the night.

Yet you doubted that they would look at you closely in the first place. They would hardly glance in your direction, once word got around. And Thorin…. You hated how you were imagining their looks, the Company. Did all of them know where you had been? Likely. And did they all think you were a harlot? Ugh, you hated all the doubt surrounding you now.

As the throne became visible, so did the Company. They were standing together, in a tight group, and you could just see Bilbo in the middle, protected by the Company should an attack come from the elves. They didn’t look as though they had been fed, but there was always the fact that they likely hadn’t been given dinner as well. You were the object of their attention, though, not the King in his throne. As you entered the room, the guard stepped aside, gesturing for you to continue.

Bilbo did look worse for wear though. He was the only one you really focused on seeing. He was a little wet. You didn’t even want to ask. He seemed to be getting into trouble all the time.

“Ah, Y/N, you’ve arrived at last,” Thranduil spoke smoothly. 

Clenching your jaw, you waited until your steps brought you in front of the company, between them and him, and you dropped into a sarcastic curtsy before rising and giving the King a sweet smile. “Thank you, King Thranduil. But I will be taking my leave of this…  _place_.” You wanted to say tomb, hovel, cave. But none of those words seemed right. This place was a fortress, and a mausoleum for the elves that lived and died here.

“Sarcasm, so early in the morning.” You clenched your jaw. “Be sure not to forget what we discussed.”

“How could I?” you returned. An elf approaching drew your attention and you glanced at him. He was the same guard that had taken you from your cell with Thorin. The blonde one that offered no conversation, just simply completed orders. A puppet.

In his arms was a quiver full of arrows of the finest grade, at least fifty, and a masterful bow. Yours had been destroyed when the spiders had taken you.

You accepted it with a jerk, and the elf glared at you, but said nothing. Inspecting an arrow, you gave a small nod, before slinging the quiver over your shoulder, and then the bow. You thought the elf would leave, but instead he pulled a dagger from his belt and you recognized it instantly. Your mother’s dagger, the last she had of your father. You glanced up at the elf, a silent message of gratitude, before accepting it and shoving it into the sheath at your waist. Roughly, you pushed past the elf, snapping to the Company, “Let’s go.” The horses were just a few paces down the stairs, and as you mounted, you heard the King’s voice calling out.

“Farewell, dwarves and friends. I look forward to hearing how your quest for the mountain turns out.”

“Ishkh khakfe andu null!” you spat back, hearing it echo in the cave of trees. Your horse didn’t even give a snort at your weight. You weighed more than an elf, sure, but the beast didn’t seem to mind. It was a finely bred mare, and the thing held your bearings with ease, turning when you requested to make sure the company was on their own ponies. They were, and your eyes accidentally met Thorin’s, who was staring at you with an unreadable expression. You quickly turned back around as the gates opened and you were greeted with sunlight for the first time in what felt like ages. it was bright and harsh, but your eyes quickly adjusted.

The forest beyond the bridge was unlike what you remembered the forest to be when you left it. You had no clue your way. “This is the east gate,” the blonde guard that had given you your quiver and bow spoke as his own horse stepped into place beside yours. You stared at him, in confusion. “It is a different gate than the one in which you entered.”

“I understand my directions, elf,” you returned evenly. “What I don’t understand is why you are on a horse as well.”

“We do not require elven filth to follow us,” Thorin snapped from behind you.

Another elf, this one a woman with reddish hair, came to your other side. “Orcs have been spotted in these woods, and despite the pack that attacked our gates last night, we have reason to believe there could be more.” Protection. The King would be foolish if he left them to be ambushed in the woods. He would not get his gems painlessly, then.

“We are to escort you through the woods to the plains under the mountain, by order of the King.”

“And who are we to refuse?” you muttered sarcastically.

You straightened in your saddle, and your horse shifted from foot to foot, as if waiting for a command. “You requested ample protection should you be attacked,” the blonde elf reminded her.

“I requested weapons, not a bodyguard,” you returned. “And who are you? But a guard?”

“I am Prince Legolas, the King’s son.” You stared at him. You could definitely see similarities. Your eyes darted to the woman, and she spoke after a glance to the blonde elf.

“Tauriel. I am the Captain of the Elven Guard of the Woodland Realm.” Well, it was certainly protection. Two of the most capable fighters, you would wager. “Two more will follow from the back.”

You merely sighed and snapped your reigns. “Then let us go. We haven’t all day.” As you rode, your eyes checked what your horse was adorned with. Provisions. Four bags were in front of the saddle, and a few canisters of water hung from behind. And that damned necklace was clinking as it jostled in a pouch hanging from your neck, also tucked into your tunic. You tried to ignore it, but it sounded like war drums. 

The ponies could not ride as fast, but Tauriel stayed behind to guard the front of the Company, and Prince Legolas remained with you, the two of you scanning the woods around you to look for signs of Orcs.

“How did a bastard farmhand become a scout?”

You didn’t give the prince a glance, merely dropped your horse to a canter to wait for the Company to catch up.  “This is where we will camp for the night.” It was nearing dusk at that point, and the Prince merely halted as well. With the lake at your borders, it was safe enough, giving you plenty of protection from the trees if Orcs did come by you. But there would be no fires tonight. There would be no fires any night until you reached Erebor. “To answer your question, my mother died. I had only heard whispers of my father from her on stormy nights, and she told me of Erebor. With her death, I traveled west to Bree, where I encountered Gandalf the Grey. And he told me of a quest that I was fit to join. And from then on I was a scout.”

Legolas gave you a look, as if considering your story. “And your father?”

“Likely dead,” you said shortly. “I am going to circle the campsite, to make sure we weren’t followed.” He said nothing, but his horse followed you anyway. Perhaps King Thranduil was more afraid that you’d abandon your hidden quest. Either way, you ignored the elf as if he had not even joined you in the first place. It was easy, and you spoke to no one that night. Not even concerned Bilbo. 


	8. Her Last Betrayal

Legolas stayed closer to you than the dwarves seemed to like. But you simply ignored the elf’s presence, just as you did the dwarves. And so the journey to the base of the mountain lasted for two weeks. In that time, the four elves did not sleep, allowing the Company to rest at night. Though some stubbornly attempted to stay up as well to show up, but were so exhausted the next day that it slowed them down.

You often sat up as the others slept, staring off at the shore of the lake, seeing the sparkling city atop the water. It looked like a nice place to visit. Very merry.

“You have been spacing out for weeks now.”

“I like where I go when I am not here,” you found yourself murmuring.

“Perhaps you should talk to your own king,” Legolas snorted. “He hasn’t take his eyes off of you since you and I entered the woods together.”

“Nor have you taken your eyes off of the she-elf. And here I believe you were trying to protect me and the Company.”

Legolas did not attempt to talk to you again, but he did not leave either. As the night stretched on, you gave one last glance to the woods, before you laid on your new bedroll.

It seemed, pretty much, that the Orcs had lost your trail once you entered the kingdom. A hope that foolishly crossed your mind the morning that they attacked. As if your thoughts beaconed them in to your location. You had been asleep when they attacked, an arrow hitting one of the elf guards you did not care to name. And when you heard the crash to the ground, you were already jerking away and reaching for your new bow and quiver.

You had never truly fought in combat before. The one attempt with the Orcs, saving Thorin from Azog, had been a fluke. So when your arrow sailed across the small clearing, into the trees, hitting an Orc. It was a miracle. And then you gripped the reigns of your horse, surprised to see it still there, whinnying and bucking, but you held the reigns tightly, before you pulled yourself onto it. You could see the elves doing the same, so perhaps it was a smart move.

Thorin was beside you, whether he intended it to be so or not, and you fought together to put the Orcs down. Yet, even with the dwarves’ numbers, there was little fighting capability compared to thousands of years of elven skill. They easily took out the most.

You could do nothing more than shoot arrows, taking down as many Orcs as there were arrows in your quiver. And then you were practically useless.

You heard a cry behind you and turned your horse abruptly, nearly missing Thorin from being hit by the beast, and saw Kili with an arrow sticking out of his leg. Oh no. You kicked your horse into gear, running to Kili’s side and slid off of the mount beside Kili as he fell to the ground.

You looked over the arrow, before he grunted at you to pull it out. “It’s best to start saying those obscenities,” you murmured. Kili laughed, but ended up saying them anyway as you broke the arrow shaft, sending him into even more fits of pain, though you had done your best to be gentle. You did not know if any of the Orcs were sneaking up behind you. But the young dwarf was a Prince, and you were not leaving him injured on the ground.

Not to be cut down by an Orc.

“I need you to be still,” you pressed, pressing his shoulder down. He let out a cry and twisted from the pain. The arrow seemed to have hit a muscle in his upper leg. Which meant it would need a long time to heal. Immediately, she began ripping at the tunic hem she had on, freshly laundered from the Mirkwood kingdom, and she pressed it against the wound, making him nearly scream. “I’m sorry, but the arrow head is still in there, and it’s going to hurt until we get it out,” you insisted. “And you’re bleeding like crazy.”

But you were soon joined by the red-headed elf, Tauriel. And she pulled your hand away from the wound, seeing the end of the arrow shaft sticking through. “I can’t stop the bleeding,” you told her.

Her eyes flickered up to Kili before she seemed to swallow back some emotion. You had often seen the red-haired elf in a conversation with Kili by the fire whenever she was not on patrol. And you had seen the young prince often looking in her direction when she was. Were they… smitten? Just thinking it made her wonder what Thorin’s opinion on the matter would be. Never mind it was an elf, but it was one of the Woodland elves. And he most definitely hated them if the glares he sent them as they traveled meant anything.

“Do you know what kingsfoil looks like?”

“I do,” a voice spoke up from behind you. Bofur. You glanced at him, relieved. You had no idea.

“I need some, quickly,” Tauriel spoke. “And be careful. There may still be orcs out there. Take one of the elves with you.” Bofur didn’t even argue, he just glanced to Kili once more before approaching Legolas, the blonde elf. And they were off together. She pressed your hand back to the wound, and glanced towards Kili again. “You will need to lie very still while I get the arrowhead out.”

“Kili!” a voice cried. And you could see Fili running towards you, crashing into the ground by Kili’s head. “What’s happened?”

“A Morghul blade,” Tauriel spoke carefully. “In the arrow. He needs healing. Hold him down while I get the arrow out-”

Fili was instantly pressing Kili’s shoulder’s down and Tauriel ducked her hand under Kili’s thigh and she seemed to grip the edge of the arrowhead in her fingers before she pulled. Kili screamed.

You didn’t know how long it was as she had you press your hands to both sides of the wound, holding his leg together, it would seem, but when Bofur arrived, she had you remove them and she put the kingsfoil in her mouth to get it wet, before she pressed it to the wound, chanting in elvish. You watched in awe, and her form seemed to glow as if she was becoming pure starlight. As if she was the gems that were in the chest in the bag on your horse at this very moment.

And when it was done, Kili seemed world’s better. You glanced up to Tauriel, seeing the elf watching Kili intently, before she rose.

“He will need to rest his leg,” she spoke to the dwarves that gathered. “He is no longer poisoned, but he will not be able to move on it for a few days.”

“We do not have a few days. We have four to reach the top of that mountain.” You closed your eyes to Thorin’s anger, and when you opened them, you hurriedly began to pick up the pieces of the bloody arrow, careful with the arrowhead. “He will need to stay behind.” You paused, and you were not the only one that seemed incredulous with the news. You glanced up just as a few dwarves shifted uncomfortably.

“Uncle, we’ve dreamed about walking into Erebor together since we were children,” Fili said quietly. “Give him a day to rest, and if he’s better tomorrow-”

“I will not forsake this quest because of one injured dwarf.”

“Kili,” you found yourself saying, getting to your feet and facing Thorin. He clenched his jaw at your voice, but you pressed on. “His name is Kili. And he’s your nephew, and your second heir. Abandoning him to the woods while the rest move on is not what you would ever have done. That’s not the honorable decision.”

“And what do you know of honor?” Thorin sneered. You bit the inside of your cheek, keeping the tears that threatened to well up at bay.

“More than it seems you,” you spoke evenly. Your fingers went to your neck, where you pulled the key of Erebor off the cord, snapping it. And you thrust it into Thorin’s chest. “Go. I will stay with Kili. But if that mountain means more to you than your nephew, you aren’t the Thorin Oakenshield I knew.”

He seemed to falter for a moment, his hand clutching the key against his chest, and you stepped back away from him, moving back towards Kili and ignoring the silent elves and dwarves around you. And you began gathering a few rocks from nearby building them up under Kili’s knee so that he could rest it comfortably.

“Once he is able to put weight on it, you two will join us,” Thorin said stiffly. “In the mean time, pack up. We leave within the hour.” You did not respond, instead sitting beside Kili, across from the she-elf standing there with a bit of worry on her face. “No elves will follow. We do not need their help anymore.”

“My responsibilities lie with the wounded,” Oin spoke. “I’ll stay with the lad.”

“And I stay with my brother,” Fili spoke. You glanced to Fili in surprise, but he did not move from Kili’s side. Nor did he look away from Thorin. Thorin seemed taken aback by the decision, but did not make further comments. He walked away, and you felt dread building in your heart.

“The sickness is already taking hold,” Tauriel said quietly as she knelt beside Kili. “I can stay long enough to make sure he is healed, but my kin’s help ends here.”

“Thank you.”

Tauriel and Legolas stayed for four days, the other elf guard returning alone to tell the King of the turn of events, and the beginnings of the sickness. And while the Company was gone, you found that only one other stayed, Bofur. “Could use some cheering up around here,” he insisted. He gave you a warm smile as you tended to a fire, and you found yourself returning it, wondering if it was the first time you smiled since being thrown into that cell with Thorin, back in Mirkwood.

They days began to blur together. And when Kili started to work on getting his leg back in shape, the great rumbling from the mountain was heard. You started, kicking the food into the fire on accident, and everyone was looking to the mountain. Everyone was staring wide-eyed. Durin’s Day’s last light had been mere hours ago. And already… Oh no.

“The dragon,” Legolas murmured.

“It’s awake,” you whispered. You glanced to Fili and Kili, who looked worried.

“We need to get to the mountain-” Kili insisted.

“No,” Fili interrupted. “If we walk to that mountain, and the dragon’s killed Thorin and the others, then it’ll kill us, too.” You hadn’t even thought of that. Thorin was in that mountain. And… Oh, no… That couldn’t mean…

And so you waited, watching the mountain for any signal. And it grew so late into the night, occasional rumbles from the mountain, that you often wondered what was going on. It wasn’t until you saw fire burst forth from the mountain that staying behind was abandoned. And then you saw the dragon flying in the sky. Mahal, it was massive. And as it spiraled towards the moon, you couldn’t help the fear that crippled you. You had signed up because Balin said it was more than likely the dragon was dead. You had signed up because this was supposed to be a simple reclaiming. And once you got what you needed to return home, you would leave.

But there was a dragon in the sky. And it was flying towards the small town on the water.

“It’s going to attack Esgaroth!” Tauriel insisted to Legolas. But there was nothing that could be done. And you could only sit there, helpless, as people burned in the city. You hadn’t realized that there were tears running down your cheeks, that you felt gut-wrenching horror as the dragon’s roar reached even to where you were on Long Lake’s shores. Not until Fili came up beside you and put an arm around you in an attempt at comfort. All of those people…

“The dragon!” Bofur cried suddenly. “Something’s hit it!” You glanced up sharply, seeing that the dragon was behaving erratically, and as it fell into the city, something else caught your eye. Boats, lit by lanterns, reaching the shores near where you were.

“Survivors,” you murmured. You moved away from Fili, towards the horse the elves had given you, and you hopped onto it, ignoring the sounds of protests.

“Where do you think you’re going, lass?” Bofur called.

“Someone’s got to help them,” you called back, and you were galloping as fast as the horse could take you in the direction of the boats. People were in bad shape, completely caught off guard by the dragon’s attack. And eventually you noticed the dwarves that had stayed behind and the two elves join you. You didn’t know why they decided to, especially the elves, but you didn’t stop to ask. You helped people out of boats, moved injured, and even went so far as to give one of the burned victims your fur lined coat, when they felt cold. And you stayed with them, as they passed, offering them apologies for something you could not have prevented, nor helped with.

“Bard did it! He killed the dragon!” You heard the cry as you passed your cloak to a few freezing wet children, and when you glanced up, catching Tauriel not leaving Kili’s side, the dark haired man came into view, being congratulated by his fellow townsfolk. He had slayed the dragon?

“He used the black arrow from his ancestors, I saw it!”

“That man’s grandfather was a Lord of Dale,” a voice said from beside you. You jumped in surprise, but it was just Legolas, his gaze on the excitement. “In the legends, his grandfather had black iron arrows that were strong enough to pierce a dragon’s hide. His grandfather didn’t kill Smaug when it attacked Dale, but he did lose a scale, giving the dragon its weakness.”

“Which he used to kill Smaug this time.”

“Presumably.”

The bowman was bashful, waving off the neighboring people. And it was then that Kili came up to you, Tauriel no where in sight. “We need to go to the mountain, see who is still alive. See what’s left.”

You knew that you had to eventually. Thorin had practically demanded it. Were the five of you the last of the company? Had the ten that had gone inside died in a fiery blaze? You didn’t know, and you almost didn’t want to, but you had to as well. Erebor was your father’s home. Erebor… Erebor was apart of your heritage.

“I’ll join you in a second.” You glanced towards Legolas as Kili wandered away, to gather the others. “Tell King Thranduil that I will give him his gems, as it looks like he will no longer have to take them from my charred corpse any longer.” Legolas smirked quickly, but just as sure you were to have seen it,  it was gone. “I just need time to get them out before Thorin notices. If he's… still alive, that is.”

“He has already succumbed to the sickness.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “Before he even saw that cursed treasure, he became sick.”

“Your dwarves are waiting.” You nodded, and said your parting, before you followed the four dwarves past wounded, past a few of those not, and into the hills at the base of Erebor. The journey didn’t even last into the afternoon, before you came upon the crumbled stone of the front gate. There were gold droplets everywhere, and the stone extended out at least a good hundred yards.

“Must have been a big dragon,” Bofur murmured.

The Great Hall had a floor of gold, and then footprints, large, the size of at least four people stretched out, etched in gold leading away from the gold floor.

“Uncle!?” Fili called.

“Bilbo? Dwalin! Bifur!?”

You had begun to lose hope anyone had survived when you heard pitter patters of feet. Fili brandished his swords, but you sighed in relief at seeing Bilbo, and you rushed to him, hugging him tightly.

“We all thought you burned to a crisp!” you cried.

“Close, but not quite,” Bilbo said warmly. “Listen,” and instantly his face changed and he looked grave. “We have to all leave. Thorin… Thorin isn’t who he once was. As soon as that door opened… He hasn’t slept, he won’t eat. All he does is walk around that treasure.”

“You all lived?” Oin asked in surprise. “Aye, that’s wonderful!”

“No, you aren’t listening! Thorin’s sick. And he won’t listen to anyone. All he’s doing is looking for the Arkenstone.”

You saw for yourself shortly. He was muttering, pacing in the treasure as he stared down at it, looking for the gem that he had begun this quest for. Perhaps he had always been sick.

“Talk to him, lass,” Balin said quietly. “He won’t listen to any of us. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

“I doubt that,” you muttered, but you obeyed the old man’s request. Mostly because of the way he looked. Defeated, disheartened. He had seen Thorin’s father and grandfather succumb, and it was no doubt he felt as if hope was lost with Thorin sick as well. But you approached Thorin carefully, your feet crunching under the vast amounts of gold. The treasure horde was likely the size of all of Bree, and still more land to fill.

“Thorin?” you asked carefully.

“I must find it.”

“Thorin, perhaps you should sleep. You’ll find it better with rest-”

“No-” And he turned sharply, and you reared back, holding your breath as he glared at you. “You do not order me. No longer.”

“I know,” you began, “but you’re feverish looking. Maybe if you rested you’d feel better.”

“I will not rest until I get that STONE!” His voice echoed, and you flinched away from him, before you nodded.

“Very well, then have fun finding it on your own, jackass.”

He was silent. And then he turned back to pacing in the gold. And you felt your heart plummet to your stomach. And your eyes filled with tears you would not let fall until you were alone. He only left once, two days later, and it was then that you walked quietly to the treasure horde, your eyes scouring the gold. And it was then that you ran into Fili, who looked exhausted himself.

“If this was mine, I’d melt it all down and sink it to the bottom of the lake,” Fili muttered. “This treasure has brought nothing but death to people. Human and dwarf alike.”

“I feel the sentiment,” you said quietly. As you stepped beside him, he sighed and glanced to you.

“He thinks I’m going to steal the stone from him.” You glanced to Fili in surprise. He continued, and by the way his teeth gritted, you knew it hurt him deeply that his uncle, the uncle you had seen him and his brother adore the entire trip, did not trust him. You could only imagine. “That if I steal it, I will usurp him and become king. And I hate that… if I did find it, I probably would.”

“Why?”

“He’s not Thorin anymore. Mother told me stories, of great-grandfather. She said that he was a horribly deranged man, broken in all the wrong places. And he could not think clearly, he would not reason. And his pride was the worst of all.”

“Thorin’s always had the biggest sense of pride anyway.”

“I would never betray my Uncle. I do not understand-”

“It’s the sickness,” you said quietly. “You know he would not think any of this if it weren’t for it.”

“I know, but it still does not make this any easier.” No, it did not. And there were always glimpses of Thorin, right after he would rest. As you headed towards the dining hall, some hours later, you saw Thorin eating happily, laughing merrily with the Company as if nothing had changed in him. As if he had not been infected.

“Y/N, come,” Thorin spoke, spotting you standing in the doorway uncertainly. And so you did. It was the first time he had addressed you civilly, and so when you sat down in the empty seat he gestured you to sit at – one right beside him – you were pleasantly surprised when he passed a small box to you. “I found this and thought you may enjoy it more than any of us would. It was in my old chambers.”

You had no idea what it could possibly be, but you opened the small box, the carvings on the top in ancient runes that you could not read. But inside, there was a ruby amulet, the color of blood on a dark silver chain. It was gorgeous. “Thank you, Thorin… This is beautiful.”

“So you accept it?”

You nodded, glancing up to Thorin, a small smile lighting up your features. “Of course. This is gorgeous. Where is it from?”

“I do not remember. But it has some value.”

“I do not care for it’s value,” you said quietly, but you took it out of the box and carefully clipped it around your neck. It rested where the key to the Lonely Mountain had once rested. “Thank you, Thorin. I do mean that.”

He merely grunted, and turned to his meal – some soup. The first real meal you had had in weeks, really. Locally hunted game.

“The people from Laketown are settling in Dale, and there is an army of elves that seem to be helping them get back on their feet. I saw a few wagons arrive with food the other night,” you said towards the other dwarves. “I’ve seen a few fires in some fireplaces from the battlements. And a few have been hunting for food in the hills. But it’s just as scarce as it is for us to find.”

“They have no right to hunt in my lands.” You felt your words die in your throat, as did the excitement you felt for the settlement that had lost everything, only for them to get back on their feet so quickly. “The game is ours, and it is not theirs? They, who leech everything from us-”

“They’ve lost everything, Thorin,” you said incredulously. “Just as you have.”

“And where were they to help when Erebor was taken from me?”

You shook your head. “That’s not the point. The point is to be the best you can be-”

“If you do not think I am doing my best as King, then you may leave.”

You paused, and Ori, who had been getting you a bowl of food to eat, paused. “What?”

“I’ve paid you for your services.” You stared at Thorin in confusion, and he nodded to your neck. Reaching up, your fingers felt the ruby amulet around your neck. The one he had given you a few minutes beforehand.

“Paid for my… I’m not some whore,” you snapped. You rose to your feet and he was quick to follow. “I did not sleep with you because I felt insatiable with need. I did not succumb to your charming ways. If anything, they pushed me away – because I got a first hand experience with how utterly charming you were on this journey.” He glowered. “If you think this is payment, then you’re no better than that elf king that you forced my hand with, because of your stupid pride.”

That was a step too far. “You whore,” Thorin spat. And you flinched as he stepped closer. “You, who spread your legs for any man that promises you riches. Did you honestly believe I would make you my queen?”

“Thorin-” Balin said quietly, trying to come to your defense.

“Did you believe I would ever love you?” Now, that one hurt.

“Thorin, why don’t you lay down-” Dwalin tried.

“Once that stone is found,” Thorin spat at you. “The first thing I will do is make sure that you rot in the ancient dungeons of Erebor for your betrayal. Siding up with elven filth, spreading your legs to the elf that gave you those starlight gems.”

“How did you know-” you began, confused, but instantly found it to be the wrong move when his eyes darkened.

“You looked at them a few days ago,” Thorin spat. “And when I checked to make sure you didn’t steal them from my treasure, and found the other set there, I knew he gave them to you. Payment for whoring to an elf-”

“You want that stone?” you spat sharply, and he glared at you. “You want the Arkenstone? Then, Thorin Oakenshield, why don’t you just pull it out of your kingly ass, you absolutely orc-spawn. How can you look me in the eye and call me a whore? How can you look yourself in the eye in the mirror? You’re nothing.” His hand was so quick, that you didn’t see it, but you were sent reeling, falling to your knees more in shock than in pain. But it most definitely stung. You touched your cheek gently, feeling it tingle beneath your fingers, and you glanced up at Thorin, your eyes blazing. “You are no king,” you breathed.

And you gathered as much of your dignity as you could muster, feeling tears building in your eyes, and you turned on your heels, sprinting from the room as quickly as you could go.

“You should not have hit her,” you could hear Dwalin warning. “She did not deserve that, no matter what you think of her. She did not have to come on this quest, and help us, but she did. She saved your life. You claimed to have loved her- Is that how you treat those you love?”

“I do not love anyone that has loved an elf.”

And though you reached far enough away from them, their voices still echoed in the hall. You paused, taking a deep breath to gather yourself, and you squeezed your eyes shut. Your cheek hurt. And your cheek… well, it mostly hurt your pride. That damned pride. You knew, once you agreed, that Thorin would not forgive you for taking the deal, but you did not think this. You did not think that he would threaten your imprisonment. Yet not until he had the stone. Because you had use, an extra set of hands, to get that stone.

You were not sure how long you stood there, breathing deeply, but when you opened your eyes, you came in contact with the gold that glittered around you. If he wanted to call you a whore, you might as well take the opportunity to put your whoring to good use. You strode down the steps with purpose, going to the exact section you had been thinking of for days. And you grabbed the chest full of starlight gems, tucking them into the sack you had been wearing. Just in case you did find the Arkenstone and needed to carry it out. The chest was heavy, but you didn’t glance inside. You knew they were in there. And as you turned, you gasped in surprise, seeing Bilbo.

“You’re leaving,” Bilbo said quietly.

“No one’s going to save Thorin. But they’re preparing for war out there, and we both know that Thorin will not give over any of their demands. Especially since the elf king arrived today.” Bilbo merely nodded. “This could save Thorin’s life, if it gets to the right people.”

“Then you’ll need this,” Bilbo said quietly. He passed you his own pack, and you stared at it in confusion. “It has your dagger, and a few provisions, some elvish rope, and enough to get you to Dale… Just… don’t … don’t open it until you get out of here.” You eyed Bilbo suspiciously, but agreed. There was something he was keeping from you. You could see it. “But it's… it’s better gone. Balin agrees… it would just make things worse.”

You nodded. “Alright, I won’t see what you’re talking about until I leave. But … you be careful, Bilbo.”

“I will. I’ll give you a good hour to get a good distance away before I tell them you’ve gone.”

You took a deep breath. “I’ll see you sometime, Bilbo. Stop by Bree on your way home, will you?”

“He shouldn’t have done that,” Bilbo said quietly. “But I will. Do I get ale on the house?”

“I don’t even know which house yet, but sure. I’ll do my best.” You stared at Bilbo a moment, before looking to the treasure horde. “I always knew, in the back of my mind, that this would be his downfall. I just did not want to believe it.”

“None of us did.” You gave one last look to Bilbo. “I’ll buy you an hour. But you’d best go now to get the most time you can.”

“Tell the others I’m sorry.”

“I will.”

You only stopped by your chambers long enough to grab your elven bow and your thin cloak to keep most of the wind at bay. And you slid it on, the hood coming up to cover your face, and then you were wandering the halls once more, towards the exit that Balin had shown you.

And then you were taking the secret passage out the back way, and when you reached fresh air, you could see Dale in the distance. And the elven army camped out. You took a deep breath, seeing the heights underneath you that you had to scale down, and you began. When you reached the base of the hidden stairs, out of breath and frazzled, only then did you open the sack Bilbo had given you. Indeed, there was some food, water skins, and a blanket, but that was not what caught your attention. It was the brilliantly shining gem that shone even brighter than the starlight gems.

The Arkenstone. Bilbo had it all this time? You would be sure to give him a few choice words for the ache in your back from crouching over the gold for hours on end. You held the Arkenstone, the gem with the right to rule, in your hands. Well, not really, but almost. You held the bag it was in in your hands. And technically speaking, that made you ruler under the mountain.

But that did not matter to you. None of this mattered. But you processed what Bilbo said. That it would make things worse if he had it. So you could not turn back. You would not. You had gems to deliver.

It took you until the night to make it to the camp, so near sunset you were able to watch as a lone rider approached the gates, before being turned away. You wondered what it could have been about. But you would not find out until you reached the city.

Elves were guarding the entrance to the ruins, which you felt was a nice change of pace. Protection that wasn’t insane.

“State your name and business,” one of the elves said in your tongue.

You tried to look as dignified as possible. “I have something for King Thranduil. He’s expecting me.”

The elves glanced to each other, but finally nodded and you were brought forth, a tent greeting you for only a second before the elf ducked inside, the other making you wait. When the doors opened, it was not the elf guard, but instead King Thranduil himself.

“I expected to be met at the gate,” you found yourself saying cheekily. “I’m already disappointed. My conditions weren’t met.”

King Thranduil gestured for the guards to leave, and then you were waved into the tent. The man, Bard, that had slayed the dragon, was standing there. As was Gandalf. You were surprised to see the wizard.

“Y/N,” Gandalf said happily. “I had feared the worst when I received word that the dragon awoke.”

“Thankfully, I wasn’t inside the mountain at the time,” you said by way of answer. And you set your two packs down, them thumping on the table with maps and positioned pawns. And Thranduil didn’t seem to mind that as you pulled out a chest, and then another. The matching sets. The necklace you had and the necklace he desired. You opened both boxes in a flourish and Thranduil seemed struck by the starlight gems for a moment, as if in awe of their beauty.

He reached out for the one that you had retrieved, with smaller starlight gems filling the bottom of the chest, as a cushion for the necklace. And he lifted the necklace gently, as if caressing the memory in not only his mind but also his hand. “I am forever in your debt.” Now that was a hefty promise. “How came you to get them?”

You glanced up wryly, your cloak dropping, and he could see the bruise that was marring your face. “Well, it wasn’t fun, how about we leave it at that.” Thranduil frowned, and he set the necklace down before moving towards you, and you eyed him in confusion as he used only one finger to trace your jawline, tilting the pink handprint so that it shone in the candlelight.

“Has he stuck you?”

“Because I’m a whore,” you spoke simply. You stepped out of his reach, glancing to the gems. “The debts paid, you avoid war. Right? That’s what you promised?”

“Except there is far more value to me to stand beside the men of Dale now.” You stared at the elf king in outrage. “There are but fourteen halflings in that mountain. The men of Dale demand payment for their lives ruined.” You didn’t exactly blame them. They deserved it. It was because of Thorin that the city burned in the first place. “The Lord of Dale, Bard, rode to the mountain earlier today seeking such payment. He was refused.”

You dropped your gaze after you glanced to Bard. “The sickness has set in.”

“How long has it been?” Gandalf asked.

“Four days before Durin’s Day was when it began. We were with the elves on the shore of the Lake, near the end of the trip with them, when Orcs attacked. And when Kili became wounded, he said he would leave Kili behind to get into that mountain – with or without the company. But… I truly think it began long before then. When in Mirkwood, he refused to give back your gems, even though it’s nothing compared to what’s in that mountain. He has enough gold to pay for those gems ten-fold.”

Thranduil glanced back to the gems, but it was Bard that spoke. “And these gems will stop him from going to war against fishermen?”

You glanced to the tall man, before hesitating. “No. Not at all. He couldn’t care less. In fact, it might even make him angrier.” But you reached into the second pack. “This, however… he will listen to.” And when the brilliant gem shone, revealing itself to the group of three, you watched as they stared at you in shock, before looking to the Arkenstone.

“How came you by this?”

“He does not sleep, because he is scouring the treasure for it,” you spoke carefully, setting it on the table. “And he does not eat. All of us were forced to look for it. Bilbo, the hobbit, gave it to me. He said… that if Thorin had it, it would make it worse, the sickness. So he gave it to me when I grabbed your gems… And told me to leave with it.”

“If Thorin had found you he would have killed you for theft,” Gandalf warned.

“I know. But … Any chance to save him from himself… He’s not right in the head. And… there has to be a way to cure the sickness. If he could maybe see reason… anything, then this stone could be the one to do it.” You hadn’t meant to sound desperate, but you did. And Gandalf looked grim, whereas the two leaders did not. They looked relatively neutral.

“We ride to the gates at dawn,” Thranduil said simply. “And we will present the Arkenstone.” His eyes swiveled to you. “If the Arkenstone fails, you will be our last bargaining chip.”

You snorted. “I hate to break it to you, but Thorin could care less. You were right. He doesn’t care for me. That gold means more to him now than any promises he’s ever made before.”

“Well, we’ll see.” He nodded to a guard by the door, and the gems were being carried out. “These will be tucked safely away in my borders, where no one can attempt to steal them back.” You merely nodded. You couldn’t care. “The Arkenstone, Bard will hold onto.” Bard nodded, and it slipped into his jacket pocket with the instruction. Close to him.

“Where did you come by that necklace?” Gandalf asked suddenly. You glanced down, seeing the ruby amulet, and you clenched your jaw at the painful reminder.

“Moments before I left,” you said carefully. But your cheeks burned at the memory, none-the-less. “Thorin gave it to me, saying he had no knowledge of where it came from. After I told him of the city having people living in it, as I had seen fires in the fireplaces the night before, he had called me a whore and said that it was my form of payment, before saying that it was best I leave.”

“The last place that amulet rested was on his father’s mistress.” You felt tears of humiliation burn in your eyes, but you glanced away from them, nodding carefully. “Why did you wear it, if he called it payment.”

“So that every time I thought of turning back to Erebor on my walk home, I would look down and be reminded of what I have there,” you said simply. You glanced to Thranduil. “Dawn, you said?”

“Yes, I’m sure Bard knows of a place you can rest. Have you weapons for war?”

“No, I would not have any weapons for war,” you spoke simply. “I’ve no arrows, but I have my bow, and only have my mother’s decorative dagger that was a gift from my father. Believe me, if I could fight with it, Thorin would be missing a finger.”

His lips quirked, before the elf king nodded. “I will see to it that you are equipped. Bard?”

The man nodded. “There’s plenty of room near the market. And there’s food if you have not eaten.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly, and as you gathered your bag, the man led the way. You gave one last look to the wizard and the elf, before following him. And you wondered what tomorrow would bring. What Thorin would say. But you knew, without even riding to the gates, that he would not bow to any elf king, or any man. Not even to you, who had committed your last betrayal. He was past all reasoning.

He was no longer himself.

He was no longer the man you loved.


	9. More Dragon Than Prince

You were woken unceremoniously by an elf at dawn, given three quivers of arrows, fifty in each, and brought to the King’s tent, where Bard and three children were.

“The injured and the children need to be kept out of harm’s way,” Bard was saying as you entered. “If the Orcs get into the city-”

“Orcs?” you asked. Something had most definitely changed.

“How lovely of you to arrive late,” Thranduil commented. “Yes. Legions of Orcs will be descending upon us in just a few hours.” Oh, well that was… wonderful news… He glanced back to Bard. “Yes, they do. Civilian casualties should be kept to a minimum. I recommend the town hall. It’s solid, and still standing. A few men will be stationed there to protect the doors, but that will be all I spare.”

“Thank you.” He turned to the oldest girl and the boy. “Take your sister and get the others that are too injured to fight, or too young, and bring them to the town hall. Any women that will go as well. Anyone else that wants to fight, they will already be meeting in the market.”

The girl nodded, and then hugged Bard tightly. “Be careful, Da. Promise.”

“I promise. Now go.”

Once the three had scurried off, Thranduil spoke. “It is foolish to promise things that you cannot keep.”

“They are children. They need the hope to get them through the sounds of battle.” Thranduil merely rolled his eyes. “The sun is nearly in the sky.”

“I’m aware. Round up your men. We form the front line in twenty minutes.” Bard nodded, and he gave one last look to you, before he escaped from the tent, his boots clipping the ground like war drums. You stared at the elven king for a moment, before looking to Gandalf sitting in the corner.

“Since when were Orcs involved in this?”

“Since they decided Thorin Oakenshield should die.”

You felt your stomach clench. “How many?”

“Don’t tell me you’re not fond of battle,” Thranduil clucked.

You shot him a look. “I’m a tavernmaid and a farmhand. The most battle I’ve seen is with the spiders in your forest, or the Orcs in the Misty Mountains – and believe me, I’m not that good at it. I dislocated a shoulder and had a deep cut on my arm, and was nearly bitten by the spiders. So, no, I’m not fond of battle because I do not know how to fight.”

“Instinct will guide you,” Thranduil drawled. “This is no longer a war against the mountain, Miss Y/N, this is a battle against Orcs. And we had best discuss the matter with your beloved, or we will be fighting two enemies at once, and we will be slaughtered.”

You were given a horse and explicit instructions on when to move forward – when the elven guard standing a few feet from you said so. You could see Thorin in the battlements, the dwarves around him armored for war. Even Bilbo, who looked out of place. And though they were hard to see, they were even harder to hear as they spoke. All you could hear were Thranduil and Bard’s strong voices shouting up to them, being carried back to you by the wind.

“We have this,” Bard spoke, and you steeled your horse, hoping it would be enough for Thorin. Hidden amongst the fisherman provided you better concealment. If the Arkenstone was good enough for a deal, then you would be well hidden, so that your king would not know your betrayal. But it wasn’t. You couldn’t hear what Thorin said, but you knew it was not good.

You were given the signal and you rode forward, the dwarves seemingly preoccupied. You forced the tears from your eyes, sitting as tall as you dared, and the elves stepped out of your way in precise precision that you were quite in awe of, if the moment wasn’t so dire. Your eyes never left the top of the mountain, where Thorin’s side was seen. And then suddenly you could see Bilbo, being held over the ramparts by Thorin and your horse jolted forward the last few steps in alarm. Even Bard and Thranduil looked astonished by the turn of events.

“Thorin!” you called, and the struggling seized. You watched as Kili and Fili pulled Bilbo away from Thorin, towards Balin where it was safer. Thorin hesitated before looking down. “He did not give it to them,” you spoke carefully. “He gave it to me. And I gave it to King Thranduil and Bard, as well as Gandalf the Grey.” Thorin looked pained, you could see it clear as day from where you sat. And you hoped it was getting through to him. It was why you had come, after all. Gandalf had said there was little hope to break through the sickness, but you were the last chance they had at reasoning with him if all else failed – if pride won out.

“You?” Thorin growled. “How dare you betray me to the elves once more!”

You straightened, your jaw clenching as you stopped your horse between Bard and Thranduil. “Betrayed you? No. If anything, I’m trying to help you. You are sick, Thorin. Your greed and your envy have taken over the dwarf that I met. The dwarf that taught me to read maps and discouraged your nephews to teach me obscene language in Khuzdul.” Thranduil beside you shifted slightly, a noise coming from him that seemed to sound like pieces were clicking together in a puzzle. “That would threaten banishment whenever I challenged a direction. You are not making a very good image of yourself as King Under the Mountain. Killing Bilbo? Is that how you treat your friends? People that have sacrificed their lives for you, sacrificed everything? Bilbo has saved your life plenty, be it against Azog or spiders. And what do you do to repay him? Kill him?” You watched as Bilbo was shoved towards the stairs and he immediately began to climb down them, not even looking back. “Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thror, son of Thrain. You dare disgrace your ancestors by this? By shedding blood when Erebor isn’t even yours for a month? By reddening your ledger to keep a handful of treasure you do not even need? I trusted you, I let you guide me blindly on this quest, and you… you do not deserve a single piece of silver of that treasure. Not a single gem. You deserve none of it for how you have betrayed all of us. How they even stand beside you now astounds me. You are not Thorin, and you do not deserve the Arkenstone.”

“You had no right to withhold it from me.”

“We were the only ones that dared withhold for fear of what would become of you .We knew that you would not get better. Stop this foolish war. Orcs are coming, Thorin. Packs of them, to kill the line of Durin. And they will not stop until the mountain is theirs. Will you join us in battle, or be pummeled by not only elven arrows, but Orc iron as well?”

And for a moment, you swore he was faltering, that he was being touched by something you were saying. But as soon as it appeared, it was gone. “No one will claim this mountain. And no one will touch its treasure.”

You gave a nod. “Then I fight against you. I fight for the protection of Erebor, for the protection of not only the dwarves, but for Mirkwood, and Laketown, now Dale. And I fight against you. Can you live with that? Can you live with pushing me away from you, from driving me to being willing to put an arrow through your heart? You are not the king. You are more dragon than prince.”

He glanced down, his hands gripping the battlements tightly. And you prayed maybe he would change his mind, find orcs the larger threat. But if there was one being he hated more, it was elves. And it was you. “No one will take this mountain from me! No one will take my treasure! If I fight against you, then so be it! You had pray my sword does not meet you in battle.”

You felt a sigh leave you and you gave a nod. “Then you are most lost than I thought. Farewell, amralime. Just remember, you can’t be king without the Arkenstone.” Your gaze darted to the other dwarves that stood beside him. “Don’t follow him into this nonsense. If you value your lives, honor… you’ll fight with us against these Orcs. Legions of Orcs. We can’t do it alone.”

“Are we resolved? The return of the Arkenstone for repayment to the destruction you brought upon our lives?” Bard’s words drew Thorin’s attention, and he glanced to the mountains around them, as if searching for someone. “Give us your answer. Will you have peace or war?”

And the meeting was suddenly interrupted by a crow. Your horse faltered back a few steps. “He’s summoned someone,” you said quietly, so as not to be overheard by anyone not meant to hear. Bard and Thranduil glanced to you simultaneously. “It’s the ravens from Ravenhill… Ori was telling me about them, even showed it to me from the battlements. He’s called for back up against us.”

And suddenly a great thundering sounded in the east and you turned just in time to see legions of dwarves coming over the side of the mountain. A war against you.

Thranduil turned abruptly, barking orders to his troops, who turned to face the attackers. You felt your heart swell in your throat. “Maybe I could reason with Dain,” you insisted to Bard. “Convince him that Thorin is sick of mind, and warn him of the Orcs. I’m half dwarf… and I’ve got to be someone he’s more willing to talk to than an elf or man.”

“I fear it will only end with your life being taken from you,” Bard said carefully.

But his own horse kicked up, following after Thranduil as the front seemed to change. And you were quick to follow. You did not give another look towards Erebor, for fear of what you might see. But you settled on the other side of Thranduil this time.

“Good morning,” a thick brogue came from Dain, Thorin’s cousin. “How are we all? I have a wee proposition if you wouldn’t mind giving me a few moments of your time.” You held your breath. “Would you consider just staving off? All of you. Right now!” The fishermen behind you faltered, and Bard gave the order.

“Stand fast.”

“Come now, Lord Dain.”

“Gandalf the Grey. Tell this rubble to leave. Or I’ll water the ground with their blood.”

“There is no need for war between dwarves, man, and elves. A legion of orcs march on the mountain. Stand your army down.”

“I will not stand down before any elf. Not least this faithless, woodland sprite.” Thranduil was tense, angry. And your horse stepped forward carefully. “He wishes nothing but ill upon my people. If he chooses to stand between me and my kin, I’ll split his pretty head off him. See if he’s still smirking then.”

“And you?” you found yourself speaking. “Would you still be smirking when you learn that Thorin is not who he once was? That he’s full of the sickness that claimed not only his father, but his grandfather as well? What then?”

“And who are you? A human peasant?”

You found yourself smirking. “Up until today, actually, I was courting your King. Until he decided that the gold was worth more than his kin’s lives. If you fight us, you’re ensuring Erebor falls to the hands of evil. The Orcs will kill us all. An enemy divided is the easiest of enemy to fall.”

“Pretty words for a pretty girl,” Dain spat at you. “But I am not standing down to elves.”

“You’d stand and fight knowing it will kill your kin?” You demanded. “That it will destroy that mountain? Then you’re a bigger fool than Thorin.”

“And how do you know Thorin, then? If you’re human?”

“Half human,” you stressed through grinding teeth. “And I know Thorin. I’ve traveled with him for almost two years now. We’ve fought together, ran for our lives together, been imprisoned together, and nearly died together. I’ve given him my heart, and he’s given me his. And if there’s one thing I know most about Thorin, it’s that if he didn’t have the sickness in him right now, he would agree that the Orcs are more dangerous than elves.”

“Then you’ve never fought with an elf.”

You smirked. “Oh, I certainly have. But these elves helped us get to Erebor. These elves helped us claim it. And fighting against them would be showing poor gratitude, don’t you think?”

“He’s clearly mad, like his cousin,” Thranduil spat, obviously angered.

You turned in your saddle, glaring at him. “And you’re clearly angry. But we need to put emotions aside and think logically.” You turned back to Dain. “It took Thorin six months to finally listen to what I was saying and understand that I want the best for the Company. Will it take us that long ourselves? They woke the dragon, sent it to the village on the lake, and murdered innocent people who wanted nothing more than to live in peace. All they ask for is payment for their lost homes to help them rebuild it. Nothing the Erebor treasure can’t handle.” Dain growled. “That’s all they ask. But Thorin refuses. And I will not stand to see honor and pride be all of our downfalls. I may be a peasant. I may have been born to a mother that didn’t even know my father’s name, and I may have labored on farms to earn food for the table, but that does not mean that I’m duller than Bifur.” The name seemed to register with Dain. “I want nothing more than Erebor to thrive, but to do that, we must fight together against the Orcs. Please. Maybe you and the elves aren’t friends, but we all have a common enemy. Can we put our emotions aside?”

A sudden cracking in the mountains made you back your horse up closer to the elves. And Bard rode up beside you, staring at the cracking as well.

“Wereworms,” Gandalf spoke. Your eyes darted to Dain.

“Please,” you spoke at last. “Lord Dain, please-”

“Aye, we’ll fight,” Dain spat at the elves and you. “The hordes of battle are upon us!” he called, his battle ram darting towards the holes that had opened up, where the Orcs were streaming from. The dwarves formed a perfect iron wall, and you glanced to Thranduil.

“Will you not fight, Tharnduil?” Gandalf demanded. “This is madness?”

But he seemed to be waiting, calculating.

And then the order came. The elves were fast, streaming towards the orcs like a fury of gold and green. And leaping fearlessly over the dwarves into the throng of dwarves that threatened their lives. And hope seemed to be building. The battle seemed to be tipping in their favor.

Until a horn blew from above, another call to war.


	10. This Was How It Ended

You weren’t really supposed to be up here, you knew that. But you knew you had to warn the line of Durin of the second wave of Orcs coming from their direction. And you had to do it quickly. You, and Bilbo, who insisted on coming along, journeyed to the top of Ravenhill by battle ram – two that were loose on the battlefield after their riders had fallen. And so when you reached the top, you barely glanced to Thorin, instead seeing the blonde dwarf being held over the edge of the rubbled tower.

“Fili,” you breathed, and your arrow was already firing, hitting the pale Orc, the Defiler, in the shoulder, but it did not stop the blade from piercing the blonde prince. You felt yourself cry out. And then Fili was tumbling, falling down the tower and towards the ice below. Your breath left you and suddenly you were running. Your arrows firing as quickly as you could get them out, and you grabbed Kili’s arm, who you had seen watching in absolute horror. “Go to Thorin. And keep your head on your shoulders.”

“You can’t fight them!” Kili gasped.

You knew that. You knew it, but you didn’t care. “Go to Thorin now. I’m not arguing with you. They mean to kill all of the Durins, and they will do it.” Your arrow fired at the orc coming out of the tunnel. “Now!” He seemed indecisive still and you shoved him before firing more arrows. But soon even the expansive supply the elves had given you ran out, and when you reached back to your quiver, finding it empty, the Orc staring at you seemed to grin.

They didn’t kill you outright, like you expected. Instead, they grabbed you, struggling and cursing, towards the top of the hill, where Fili had been. Only, you weren’t nearly as high up. You were at what once was a window, probably three stories off the ground. A fatal distance to fall, if fallen right.

And Azog… Azog was there, a grin on that pathetic face of his with his metal arm – a different one you felt was excruciatingly painful to replace – in the shape of a sword. A sword to kill.

A cry left you as you felt the pale orc grip your hair tightly, dragging you towards him, sniffing you. And he seemed to recognize you, recognize everything about you, though you hadn’t seen him this close before. “Oakenshield’s bride.” You failed to mention that you weren’t, but it didn’t seem to matter. Your breath left you in fear and he gripped your neck tightly, before he grabbed the amulet that Thorin had given you in his bout of madness. The amulet that was his way of either humiliating you or wishing the dragon sickness upon you. You weren’t sure.

“No!” you cried, but he swung the amulet towards you, cutting your cheek in the process. You could feel the blood running down your neck. But just as quickly as he had released you to grab the amulet, he was just as quickly back to gripping your hair, hanging you over the edge of the window. You could feel your dagger poking into your thigh, and you had to make a decision. If you didn’t, you would meet the same fate as Fili, and that was certain. And if you did, well… dying would be on your own terms. Azog’s blade was cutting at your back, across as if cutting at your armor, but its sting didn’t register. You had to act now before he sliced deeper. You twisted, your fingers grabbing your dagger and then slicing easily through your hair, before your balance faltered and though your hair was in the orc’s hand, you were falling down. You could focus on nothing. Only the ice rushing up to your face.

“Y/N!” you heard someone call, but the voice was so far away, that you could barely hear it, and then it was darkness.

* * *

Thorin swung the generic sword in his hands, sending Azog back a few steps. The ice was hard to balance on, and rocking back and forth, Azog’s blade always seemed to be too close.

He had seen her fall, heard Azog’s triumphant roar of laughter. He had seen her die. And he would never make amends for what he had done while sick – for what he had said, for how he had acted towards her. He had not even said that he loved her since she had left that forsaken elven dungeon.

Thorin’s steps faltered, however, when the amulet he had given her out of spite skid across the ice, a trail of blood in its wake. He did not want to think of how much she suffered before she fell. He did not want to think of how much she had truly sacrificed in this quest. Her life, her honor. He did not want to think of it at all. But the amulet forced him to. The amulet he picked up as Azog sunk under the ice, and he clutched it to his chest in one hand, and cried over.

It was a symbol of everything he had done wrong. A symbol of all the evil that had possessed him and turned him into a monster that could not even think properly. That could not love properly. He held onto it as he followed Azog’s floating body towards the waterfall’s edge. The bloody edges cut into his own palm, adding his own blood to the mix.

And so when he laid under the resurrected Orc, the sword inching closer and closer, Thorin came to his resolute decision.

He was not fit to be King. He was not fit to rule, when he could not even keep his head with those he loved. He was not fit to decide anything for others, to exchange diplomatic relations…. Not when his pride had torn apart everything. She had always warned him, always insisted that he needed to let go of his pride for three seconds just to see the alternative. But he had refused.

Until now.

With the sword cutting into his hand, with the amulet wrapped around the hand of the other, he exhaled once, hoping that this would make everything right. That this would make her forgive him. And he slid his sword away from Azog, feeling the iron pierce him with a painful gasp. And then Thorin’s own sword drove itself into Azog’s heart, sending the orc tumbling, reeling back, taking his own blade with him, into the ice once more, where he did not return.

Thorin breathed raggedly, getting to his feet. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to even think of breathing. But he had to see… he had to see Erebor one last time. She was too far away… he knew he would not make it to her side, and he did not think she wanted him to die near her. He did not think she wanted to have him die beside her, not after everything. He had watched her cut her hair, had watched as she severed the braid that he had put there – officially ending their courtship. He had watched as her long tresses became a shoulder-length wave. And all he wanted to do was tell her that she was beautiful. That no matter how long her hair was, she was beautiful. That no matter what he said, she was still the brightest gem to ever step into that mountain. That she was still his Queen.

He could see the magnificent gates from the edge of the waterfall. He could see the battles below, the eagles flying down and knocking down the legions of Orcs that were approaching. The eagles were coming… With that, he exhaled, finally allowing his pain to show, and he collapsed to his knees, the scene of the dwarves winning the mountain fading from view as he laid on the icy ground.

And suddenly Bilbo was there. The Hobbit that had given up his warm lounge and his cozy hobbit hole for a sense of adventure. And this was how it ended.


	11. A Sign of Good Faith

You didn’t know when you woke, you just knew that there was the sound of clanking metal and suddenly silence. Your body ached, but it was soon forgotten as you saw Thorin stumbling and falling and you groaned as you pulled yourself to your feet. Fili was near you, and though his eyes were closed, you could see a touch of life, a piece of him that was holding on, begging to be saved.

You crawled over to him, peeling back the lapel of his coat to see the wound. Deep, likely lethal if you hadn’t shot Azog when you did. Your hands gripped his, bringing it to his chest, and pressing them against the wound. “Fili? Can you hear me? You’ll be okay,” you promised. “I know you will. You’ll be okay. Just hold on. I’m going to find… someone to heal you. I swear it.”

“Kee,” he whispered.

“Shh, Kili’s fine,” you promised. Though you had no idea where the prince was. “Just stay right here. Okay? Stay here and focus on keeping pressure and breathing.”

“No where else… to go.”

You felt a laugh bubble out of your throat and you kissed his forehead. “You’ll be alright. I need to find Azog.”

“No-”

“Stay still,” you said in a voice that left no room for argument. Fili had no choice but to obey anyway. And you rose to your feet, stumbling as the world swayed, but you couldn’t help but feel the world turn dark for just a second. When you could see light again, you were on your knees, your breath ragged, but Bilbo was with Thorin, speaking to him. And in the distance, you could see the red-headed elf, Tauriel, over another figure. Dwalin or Kili you couldn’t be sure. But you stumbled towards where Thorin was, seeing him nursing a wound in his chest, a fatal one. One he would most certainly die of. There was no sign of Azog.

“No,” you murmured as Bilbo glanced up at you, tears in his eyes. “No.”

“I’m sorry.” And you fell beside Thorin, your breath leaving you as you saw your amulet clutched in his hand. Your hands shook as you cupped his face, and his eyes were open, but he couldn’t seem to focus on you. “Amralime,” you whispered. “I’m here. I promise I’m here. I’m sorry.”

“An angel.” His hand was weak as he lifted it, showing you the amulet in his hand. “I gave this to her, and she’s dead. Do you take her form to trick me? To spite me for what I have done?”

“It’s me, Thorin. I’m here,” you said quietly. “You’ll be alright. Fili’s alright, he’s hanging in there. And I don’t know where Kili is, but I’m sure he’s just fine too. He’s alive.”

“He is king now,” Thorin coughed. He clutched the amulet tight, his hand falling to his chest, holding it close to his heart. “Tell her I’m sorry. I did not mean to… to spite her. I did not mean-”

“You can tell her yourself,” Bilbo insisted, glancing up to you. But Thorin seemed to go limp in the ice, and you felt a cry leave you as you shook him slightly, trying to wake him from his sleep. But he did not wake.

“Thorin! Thorin, no. Do not leave me! Do not leave-”

A flourish of robes drew your attention away, and your dagger jutted from your hand as you rose swiftly, but it hesitated as you saw Thranduil standing there, blood soaking his cloak – black as night Orc blood. And he glanced from you to the king on the ice.

“You have the power,” you spoke quietly, but urgently. “You could save him. You know you could.”

“There is a sickness still in his heart-”

“I don’t care!” you cried. “I gave you your gems. I gave you everything you’ve asked for. Can you save him? Can you save all of them? I know you have the power. I know you can, if you want to. They still have a glimmer of life.”

“Tauriel is with Kili. He will not make it if he is not tended to swiftly.” Kili? All of the Durins?

“Please,” you whispered, your dagger falling to the ice. “I refuse to let Azog win today. We’ll deal with the sickness as it comes, I don’t care. But he is still Thorin Oakenshield. He is still the King Under the Mountain. And he will give you whatever gold you want if you heal him. If you require anything at all, I will do everything in my power to give it to you. More gems, more gold, more men? I don’t care-”

“You would owe a debt to me to save this dwarf?”

“I would owe a debt to anyone that can heal him.”

He glanced to Thorin. “He is fading.”

“I know that, but I know there is still hope. And I know that you swore to me a life debt when I handed you those gems. You said that I was forever in your debt. We’ll be even, if you do this. I won’t ask for more, I will not ask for anything less.”

Thranduil’s jaw clenched, and as you stared at him, worried he would walk away, cast his word aside, he instead cast his cloak from him, and walked towards Thorin, before kneeling in the ice and blood, sending Bilbo back a few steps in surprise. And then the elven king was murmuring, his hands on Thorin – one over the heart and another over his forehead. And the light was nearly blinding as it caressed Thorin. Even brighter than Tauriel’s had been with Kili. Even brighter than the gems.

And suddenly the light dimmed and you glanced to Thranduil, waiting for the verdict. “He will survive long enough to be taken to the tents of healing,” Thranduil spoke. “I cannot use more power if you wish for all three of them to be saved.”

You nodded. “Thank you,” you spoke so sincerely that he seemed taken aback. But you turned to Bilbo. “Where’s Dwalin? He was up here when I got here with you-”

“He’s with the elves fighting the other orcs still. The war isn’t over.”

You swallowed, but nodded. “Take a ram, and bring him to the gates of Erebor. The wounded will need to be taken there, to be protected. It’s safe there.” Bilbo nodded, getting to his feet. “And Bilbo? Do not let anyone in but our wounded – elf, dwarf, or man.”

Bilbo nodded immediately.

“Fili’s by the hill,” you told Thranduil. “Is Kili with Tauriel?”

His eyes darted to the hill, the opposite end where the cliff was, and he gave a single nod. And while he left to tend to Fili, you stayed with Thorin and Bilbo. First you helped summon a ram, and brought him close, lifting Thorin with the help of Bilbo, onto the ram’s back, and then you picked up Bilbo. It hurt incredibly, but you could do it. “Get him to Erebor, Bilbo. And kill anyone that tries to stop you.”

You passed your dagger to him, and he took it, surprised, before seeming to settle into a stance of determination. And you smacked the ram, sending it off. You sprinted towards where Tauriel was, and saw Kili crumpled on the ground, and she was crying over him, her hands clutching his against his chest.

“Does he still live?” you questioned urgently. Tauriel glanced up to you as you knelt beside the prince dwarf, and you carefully touched his neck, seeing that he did have some life… but the pulse was weak, and he would not make it long.

“It’s too late-”

“No, it’s not,” you returned. Tauriel glanced to you, before her gaze lifted over your shoulder. Following his gaze, you spotted Legolas standing there, hesitant. “What happened?”

“Bolg… He was trying to help me, and Bolg sent a sword through his chest-” Like Thorin and like Fili. All three Durins to be sentenced to die the same way. Why didn’t Kili just leave? Why didn’t he listen to your instructions? But you could not be angry. Instead, you scrambled out of the way as Thranduil appeared, and Tauriel moved back, also, in surprise. And he began to heal. As he did so, it seemed he did not need to chant anymore, instead barking orders to the two elves.

Legolas spoke a protest, but Thranduil shot him a glare once the healing was done. And it chilled even you. What was that about? But Legolas disappeared, huffing, and Tauriel gently lifted Kili off of the ground, elf strength something that it looked like they did not possess. But she lifted Kili with ease and gently put him over her shoulder, before she poke to the King. And then she was gone.

You wished you knew what that was all about. But there was no explanation as you were left alone with the King.

“More Orcs are coming,” Thranduil spoke to her. “They will decend upon this hill in mere minutes.”

“Then I had best arm myself,” you said simply, and you began plucking arrows from orcs around you, climbing the steps and finding the arrows you had used from before. Elven arrows that seemed near impossible to break. You had only collected enough to fill one of your three quivers, when the rumbling of Orcs sounded.

You glanced to the King that followed you carefully, wondering why he was still here, when he had a forest to get back to. But he wasn’t your king, not at all, he was just your ally.

“You would make a fine queen to Erebor,” Thranduil spoke after he seemed to catch her staring. “And you make a fine warrior, halfling.”

“I’m not a halfling-”

“You really care to argue of it now?” But you didn’t. You were already reaching for your bow and pulling an arrow from the quiver. It sailed past his head, towards an orc headed in his direction. “Ah, I see now. You didn’t wish to exchange pleasantries. Merely impress me.” You doubted you had impressed him at all.

“Do you really wish to argue of it now?” you returned with a smirk. And Thranduil smirked in return. “Besides, why compliment you? You seem to think the world of yourself already.”

“As did you for a night.” You shot him a glare. “Oh, touchy subject?”

“You flatter yourself,” you said flatly. “But there are Orcs to kill. So either run to your forest, or stop talking to fight.” You heard the first cry and glanced sharply to the hills behind the mountain.

Your eyes darted to the goblins crawling over the top, running towards you in fury and speed. “On my mark,” Thranduil spoke under his breath, “you are to kill the three closest. Can you do it in one strike?” You shifted a few feet to the left, before giving a small nod. And he was silent, staring at the goblins as they sprinted towards you before he spoke his single command. “Now.”

The arrow soared, hitting the goblins right through the jugulars, sending them crashing into the ice as they flailed, but you didn’t have time to celebrate. Your arrows were hitting the next few that went over, stepping around more Orcs as you grabbed your already used arrows. Some arrows were too damaged, the Orc arrows you grabbed, but you didn’t care as you slung them. As long as you didn’t stop firing. Your dagger was with Bilbo. And you hadn’t a sword.

But once your arrows run out, you had to come to other options. You had bought not only the King time to take a breath, but also yourself. And you tossed your bow aside, before grabbing the piece of filth’s sword from under your feet. It would do. It was heavy, but balanced, and you stepped beside Thranduil as the last of the goblins, perhaps ten to fifteen, arrived. And you were blinded by a constant whirl of whacking and ducking, kicking and dodging.

When the ice was coated with the Orc’s blood, you were still, relishing the silence the altitude brought. And then surveyed around you, taking in the destruction. The waterfall would run with Orc blood for weeks before it was pure, once the ice melted.

The King was watching all of the dead Orcs, looking for some sign of life, and glanced towards you.

“The war is over.”

Indeed, you could see down below from the waterfall, at the clashing of swords and creature, yet the orcs were dwindling. There were hardly any left. And the battle was reaching it’s final bang. You stared at all of the destruction, the field of bodies.

“How many have you lost?” you asked him after a moment.

Thranduil considered the question. “Enough.”

And you nodded. Just one was more than enough, but you knew he had lost far more. Elves were excellent fighters, disciplined for thousands of years. But not even an elf could outfight a thousand Orcs. “Thank you, for healing them. I know it took much strength-”

“A sign of good faith.”

You felt a laugh bubble out of you, by the words that had haunted you for weeks before this day. A sign of good faith. It was a sign alright. He had saved the Durin’s line from ending. As your laughter died, you stared down below. “I will make sure that anything you need for your soldiers to rest and heal will be given to you. I do not have much say, but I am sure Dain will be thankful while he takes matters into his own hands until Thorin or the brothers are well enough.”

He was staring at the destruction before he dared glanced at you. “You returned my gems to me in a timely manner. In fact, I was beginning to think hope was lost once I heard of the dragon being woken.”

“What can I say?” you felt yourself say sarcastically. “I keep my word. A promise is a promise. You gave us what we needed to take over Erebor, and I gave you payment in return.”

“The wounded will be moving to Erebor soon. It is best you return to them.”

“Thranduil?” You said as he turned from you. “I do mean it. Thank you.”

He clenched his jaw, as if annoyed by her gratitude, before giving a nod. “Your king is waiting.”

The shrill whistle brought forth a ram and you saw Dwalin on another, riding towards you. You climbed onto the Ram, knowing you were perhaps a little tall for it, but the ram would hold you. “Where’s Thorin?” Dwalin demanded, glancing to the elven king distrustfully as he paced around the Orcs, looking for any that were alive.

“The elves have taken him to Erebor to heal,” you told the tall dwarf, and you kicked your ram. “We haven’t much time. The others are with him.”

Before he could ask what others, you were off, your ram climbing down the mountainside with skill only a mountain ram could possess.


	12. Gaining More than Lost

The golden hall of Erebor was filled with fallen soldiers, men, women, and child from the town of Dale, and you could see the wounded elves and the wounded dwarves being sectioned off by severity. Only one tent was currently erected over the golden floor, and you knew just who was inside. As you hopped off the ram, an elf guard tried to halt you, but you pushed past him, your feet finding their own path as they moved towards the Durins in the tent. There was a myriad of elves inside working in a flourish over Thorin, and you felt Dwalin stepping into the tent beside you. Tauriel was bent over Kili, whispering to him, as another elf healed. And Fili… Fili was pale, but he was gaining color as the elves bent over him worked. No one had been removed of their armor except for Thorin, who was bare chested and you could see in his limp hands your amulet. You swallowed.

“You saved him, lass,” Dwalin said quietly. “He’ll be alright. The elves will take care of him.” His sudden trust from the elves was only seeming to stem from the fact that Thorin was being worked on diligently and tirelessly.

Bilbo suddenly was in front of you, startling you. “They say he’s healing,” Bilbo said nervously. He presented your mother’s dagger to you, and you accepted it without a word, sliding it back into the sheath on your waist. “Had to take down an orc or two, but not too much trouble.”

“You astound me time and time again, Bilbo Baggins,” you said warmly. Dwalin chuckled, and instead of the hair shake that usually accompanied it, he slung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side for a one armed hug.

The hug was what caused the bright stars of pain that burst forth in front of yours eyes. You cried out, and immediately your dear friends looked worried, Dwalin letting you go. “Are you well?” Even the elves around you had turned away from their task of dealing with the Durins to look at you, worried.

“It’s my back,” you groaned. “Bloody hell, Dwalin, is your armor spiked?

“No…” He approached your back carefully, pealing back the jacket to reveal a bloody wound that stretched from rib to rib, slicing through your skin like it had been spread for bread. “This isn’t good. This needs to be taken care of.”

An elf moved away from Kili, and you recognized them as Legolas.

“Bring her here,” Legolas ordered, and Dwalin was moving you towards the blonde Prince, lying you facedown on a stained cot. Someone had already been here before you, had already died from their wounds or been moved to a different location to make way for the Durin sons. A dagger was plucked from your sheath without your permission and you gasped as the leather that adorned your shoulders and sides was cut off, as well as the bloodstained tunic underneath, revealing your back to not only the elven prince, but also Dwalin and Bilbo.

“How bad?” you murmured.

“Aye, it’s bad,” Dwalin returned gruffly. “What on earth have you been doing out there?”

“Orcs don’t exactly fight fair,” you snorted. “And two against one aren’t good odds. Can it be healed or am I warg chow?”

Legolas didn’t find it funny. “I will do what I can.”

“And you, twig prince, need to lighten up,” you groaned, as hot pain consumed you once more. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m sorry, you didn’t want to be made into warg chow?” Legolas returned and you stared at him incredulously until you made the realization he was being sarcastic. And you let out a breathless laugh, before burying your head in your arms. “Hold still. You, dwarf, hold her still.”

Dwalin’s hands came down, one firmly pressing down at your lower back, and another just behind your neck. “His name is Dwalin.”

“And I don’t care to remember it.” You grimaced as the hot sensation returned and realized it was him healing. At first it felt like nothing but burning skin, and then it ebbed into a cool, almost soothing warmth. You sighed quietly, and you relaxed as he continued. “It will hold, but it is best if you get washed without leaving this table.”

“You just said that it would hold-”

“Not against a grueling walk to a source of water, and then a wash.” You grumbled, feeling Dwalin’s hands leave you. “I will speak to one of the less busy healers-”

“No, lad. They need to heal those that are injured,” Dwalin spoke up gruffly. “I’ll do it, if that’s acceptable, lassie?”

You groaned. “If you can stand to look at me after I stole from right under the king, then I suppose you can do whatever you wish.”

“It was for his own good,” Dwalin spoke shortly. “He was going mad. And perhaps now he’ll be better. Once that gold is sent off to where it should.”

“Then I’ll leave you. I must finish with Kili, as a promise I made to Tauriel.” The she-elf. You had watched them become closer as the days passed and she had even saved Kili’s life after that Orc attack. An elf servant was asked to fetch a pale of  water, and Dwalin fell heavily onto the chair beside you, causing you to turn your neck to look at him.

“Who will rule while Thorin and the others are unconscious? I had a thought that it might be Dain, but I wasn’t too sure,” you asked curiously. “Thorin would have a fit if it was Bofur or-”

“Balin and Dain will oversee matters together,” Dwalin said gruffly. “And they will make sure the people of Laketown are paid their dues, as well as the King of Mirkwood, though he has lowered his demanded price.” You closed your eyes, waiting. “That was a foolish thing to do, lass. Going to his bed, giving him his jewels. Did he make that much of an impression on you?”

“The jewels were in return for his men and protection in this war. Our provisions, our horses,” you answered calmly. “Their lives, to be healed. Those gems saved us a lot of trouble. Without them, they would all be dead.” When you opened your eyes, Dwalin was staring at you with an unreadable expression. A bucket of water was suddenly presented to him, and a few rags, and he rose to his feet, scraping the chair close and setting it by your head. And he drenched the rag before gently running it against your skin. “The night was for all of our release from Mirkwood.”

“You had managed to bargain that much?”

“He offered the release if I gave him a night. And then he made the demands of the jewels for his aid in a war, should it come.” You closed your eyes in pain as Dwalin got too close to the wound. “I bargained for the rest, as I knew the gems meant a great deal more than a single battle.”

“That was a brave thing to do, to demand more than he was giving.”

“He was perfectly capable of giving more. I didn’t ask for anything more than the gems were worth.”

“And the Durin’s lives.”

You opened your eyes just enough to see the three Durins being tended to by a multitude of elves. The best healers Thranduil had in his employ you would venture to guess. “If they had died, this entire quest would have been pointless. We would have had ourselves a home, a mountain, but no king to rule it. Even if it had been just Thorin to fall, or Fili, we would have still had a king.” He grunted that he agreed. “Perhaps Thorin cares nothing for me now, but that does not mean my own feelings changed.”

“You saved his life. And you sacrificed a great deal, knowing it was for the best. And that is a debt that Thorin will never be able to repay. It was incredibly brave of you.” He was quiet a minute. “You are his one, but he feels betrayed.” You knew that. “And he feels as though he cannot trust you.”

“I know. But he needn’t worry, once he’s awake, I will return to Bree, beg for my job back, and return to the one home I know I have.”

“Your home is here.”

“Even if I was allowed to stay, Thorin and I would never have married. I would never pass those ridiculous tests. I would never survive in court. I don’t even know how to address royalty. Your grace? Your highness? So how can I be proper in a court?” He said nothing, just continued to wash away near the wound. “Lady Dis would have him marry some woman that is proper for him, that’s a full dwarf, and not half. And continue the line of Durin.”

“I know he said and did things while he was sick, but Thorin does care for you. And he would hate to see you go, no matter how mad he is.”

“He told me in the cells of Mirkwood, that if I accepted the king’s offer, I would never have a place with him again.”

“And you accepted anyway. You knew the risks.”

“I was not going to let his stubborn pride forsake the quest,” you answered tightly. “I wasn’t going to let us all die down there because he couldn’t just give Thranduil his stupid gems back. What are a box of gems compared to all the gold and gems in the mountain still?”

“Stubborn pride,” Dwalin agreed gruffly. “Aye.” You sighed, shaking your head. “I am surprised that he knew of it beforehand. He made no mention of that.”

“Because he knew the only reason I accepted was because he refused to reconsider.”

Dwalin grunted, as if he agreed, but the rag rubbed roughly near your shoulder suddenly, and you winced, glancing back at him in alarm. “This one spot is difficult. Seems to have stained your damned skin. Bloody orc’s blood.” He moved the rag away, and you giggled, as you spotted the area.

“Oh, no, that’s my birthmark,” you giggled. “It is the same as my mother’s. She had the same spot. She always used to tell me that it was a mark that she was always watching, so she knew when I would do something to get me in trouble.” Dwalin was quiet and you glanced up at him, to see he had gone pale, and he fell heavily into the chair, the bucket falling and soaking the gold floor. “Dwalin!”

“Oh Mahal.”

“What’s wrong? I’m not dying, right?” you asked worriedly. “Dwalin?”

“No, lass, you’re not dying. East Farthing, right? That’s where you’re from?”

“Yes… my mother was a tavern maid at-”

“The Leapin’ Leperchaun.” Your words died in your throat at his breathless whisper. “Fair lass, hair as gold as the sun, skin as creamy as milk, and eyes as blue as the sky. Name of Lauraline.”

You pushed yourself up with one arm, the other clutching the cut clothing to your chest as you stared at him. “You knew my mother? You had met her?”

“Oh, aye, I met her alright,” Dwalin said quietly. “Not even gone on twenty one years now.” Your throat felt dry. “She was a gorgeous lass, and where everyone else drew away from me, she would give me a kind smile. My meal was on the house, and she encouraged the black smith to get work for me. I stayed a few months, the longest I could. And there wasn’t a day she didn’t smile at me.”

“She promised she had only been with one dwarf,” you whispered.

“Had I known… Mahal, had I known she was… I would have stayed. I would have taken her with me. I had no idea-”

“I believe you,” you said quietly. “You're… my father?” All this time, you had thought him dead. Lost in the world. “You… you told her the stories of Erebor, of how you were all dispersed, of how you had fought with the King in battle against Orcs, but didn’t save a single man that day.” Your throat felt like it had not seen water in weeks. “You… Mahal, and I thought you were dead. I swore that you would be dead, or … or I would have known who you were.”

“I thought your mother died,” Dwalin said, his gaze still very far away. “She wasn’t living a good life, and when I had left, she said she was ill… That … When I stopped by East Farthing a few years later, she was nowhere. And no one had heard of her.”

“You came back?” you whispered. “You came back for her?”

“For you both, had I been aware you were even around,” Dwalin said gruffly. “Where did you two go?”

“We moved out of East Farting, lived on a farm in the outskirts, where I worked. I may have been ten, but I was good at taking care of the animals. And she had moved to a different tavern, closer to the farm, to work. They offered her better pay and lodgings there.”

He seemed at a loss for words. “How on earth… I can’t believe this. I never thought I’d ever have children.” He suddenly stared at her, stern. “How dare you accept that elf’s proposal-?”

“Just ten minutes ago you said it was brave.”

“Ten minutes ago, I didn’t know you were my daughter,” Dwalin snapped. You rolled your eyes. “Don’t give me that look. What on earth were you thinking?”

“Well it went along the lines of, ‘stupid dwarves and their stupid pride. I’m not dying here for them to get over their contest of pride, so I’m going to bloody do something about it. Even if I don’t like it, and even if they don’t. Bloody stupid dwarves.‘”

“Language,” Dwalin admonished and you quirked an eyebrow, as if asking him what he seriously was doing. He slumped in the chair. “I feel a little faint.”

“Faint outside the tent. If you fall out of that chair, it’ll be pretty solid.”

He let out a breath. “I feel ill.”

“Dwalin.”

“Nope, definitely faint.”

You groaned, falling back down onto the bed. “My father is as frail as a woman. Wonderful.”

That snapped Dwalin out of it. “Courting the king? Are you out of your mind?”

“Technically, we aren’t courting anymore.”

“And you won’t if I have anything to say about it,” Dwalin growled. “Bloody Mahal, just in my life for five minutes and already a thorn in my side.”

“Technically, I’ve been in your life for near two years now. And I’ve always been a thorn. Why do you think it took so long for Thorin to finally agree that he’d tell me he loved me?” Dwalin sighed. “Don’t go all protective of me now. Or I’ll start asking you what you were thinking when you let Thorin walk all over that bloody gold like he owned it.”

“Well, he did-” You glared at him and Dwalin hesitated. “I saw you take the gems, alright? I saw you find the box shoved them in your bag. But I didn’t stop you because I figured you were going to polish them up or something – not bloody give them to the elf king.”

You grunted. “Well, surprise, then.”

He snorted. “How many times do you think I wanted to tell Thorin? But some part of me insisted that it was better he not know. None of us knew what he was capable of when he was sick. I mean, he had already struck you-” Dwalin frowned. “I will kill him for that, by the way.”

“It sounded like you were going to when it happened,” you found yourself saying quietly as you laid back down, sighing. “No, but we all knew what he was capable of when he almost threw Bilbo from the battlements. If I hadn’t have been in the crowd, and they had presented those gems… I know it would have been me thrown over. He trusted me the least out of the whole Company.

“Can you blame him? The jewel we spent days searching for, and Thorin thinks someone he trusted so fiercely betrayed him? Not to mention that just weeks beforehand, you had slept with another man. Wounded pride.”

“Your pride will be your downfalls.”

“Oh, aye, we all now it.” He leaned forward in the chair, his eyes close to yours. “I’ll make Thorin see sense. I’ll not see you go to Bree and have to cross those bloody mountains again just to see you.”

“You had to, to get to Bilbo’s. Just a different set of mountains.” The Blue Mountains. He grumbled. “I won’t go to Bree unless I have a strong rason to, or if I’m banished. Whichever comes first.” But you gave a small smile. “Now, are you capable of finishing your task, or do I have to ask a more alert elf to do it for you?” It got to him. He shot you a glare, before he picked up the bucket, and you saw that there was still some water left over. And he began washing again.

“Was your mother good to you?”

“She was wonderful. She missed you every day. She said that she never loved anyone as much as she did you.” You reached for the dagger Legolas had used. “She gave this to me when I turned sixteen. She said it was yours.” Dwalin paused and when he grabbed the dagger, it was the same way that Thranduil had lifted up the starlight necklace. “I… I don’t know how to use it, but I haven’t had it leave my side except to give to Bilbo today.”

“Aye,” Dwalin said quietly. “I gave it to her as a promise I’d come back for her when I could – when I had the money to settle.” You glanced to Dwalin in surprise. “A betrothal gift. But… I don’t think she knew what it meant. Dwarves don’t always follow the same courtship rules.” Oh. The only thing that seemed consistant was braiding. “Some dwarves carve things, others just braid. But no, I forged this just for her at the local smith I was working at.”

You glanced down to the dagger. All this time and you had not known it meant that much. “The gems were the last my mother had grabbed from her jewelry box before the mountain was taken,” Dwalin said quietly, and he sat down heavily. “Rubies and Sapphires. Your mother thought they were the prettiest gems in all of Middle Earth. She had a matching pair of-”

“Of sapphire earrings,” you said quietly as Dwalin seemed to choke up.

“She always wanted to see Erebor,” Dwalin said quietly. “Always wanted to see what was beyond the Misty Mountains.” You watched as he turned the dagger over, before passing it back to you. And he ruffled your hair, a sad smile on his face. “She’d be quite proud of you.”

“I’m sure she’s here already,” you said quietly. “And I’m sure she’s scolding you for wearing your bloody boots on gold flooring.” Dwalin glanced down, seeing the puddle of water washing off some of the blood that was coating his boots.

“It’s bloody war. What do you expect?” You laughed quietly, and rested your face within your crossed arms. But you could feel Dwalin’s hand touch your shoulder. “I am proud of you, Y/N. Everything you’ve done. From saving Thorin’s life, to saving Fili's… to having the elf king release us from those cells, to … to trying to save Thorin from the sickness. I’m incredibly proud to call you my daughter.”

“And I’m proud to call you my father,” you said quietly. But it was quiet a moment, and you glanced up to see that there were actual tears in Dwalin’s eyes. And you felt tears in your own. You clutched the torn fabric to you with one arm, before reaching for the gruff dwarf, pulling him into a tight hug. “I’ve always been fond of you, even when you scared me,” you giggled into his armor. “And you certainly scared me a bit in the beginning.”

“Don’t you go bloody dying on us again, do you hear?”

“I won’t.” You were firm in that regard. “I promise.”


	13. Last Words

Your feet nearly tripped over yourselves as you were brought to the dark chambers of Erebor, where the King dwelled. You gently fixed your hair, the shortness of it making you wince slightly. Thorin would comment on it, surely. But you had made sure that the braid, though short, was out, just in case. No one made a comment when they saw it out, so you assumed that they came to the same conclusion as you. Thorin and you were no longer courting.

But that didn’t mean you were any less nervous. While he was healing well from what you were told, these could very well be your last words. You had mulled over what would happen in this moment for a month now, since the end of the war. While you weren’t helping Dain and Balin with issues concerning the cleaning up of Erebor, Dale, and the battlefield, you were helping Bombur gather the food for all of the dwarves that had returned so far.

You situated your tunic and pants – you refused to dress in court wear, as it just wasn’t practical for your duties. You weren’t a lady of the court, you were just trying to help as best you could before you left. But he had asked for you. And you lightly knocked, surprised to see Dwalin on the other end, but knew that he never left the King’s chambers, not even to eat. He had signed up for the King’s guard while the elves still worked on healing him.

A royal treatment so that there was no assassination attempts. Not that you thought there would be any.

“He’s been asking for you,” Dwalin said quietly. You felt your eyebrows raise in a silent question, and Dwalin cleared his throat. “He’s weak, but he’s in good shape. He’s worried about you.”

You felt a twinge of relief touch you before you gave a small smile. “Can I see him?” Dwalin stepped aside and you could see the King for the first time since the elves had taken him away to his chambers. You had been too injured to follow such a long distance, according to Legolas’s stern look. The King had various furs around him to keep him warm, and a small bedstand that had a few drinks and food on them. A few more cloths atop it, and a bowl steaming with stew. He was looking up, and you could tell it took great effort to focus. “My King,” you said quietly.

“Y/N.” He coughed lightly and you glanced to Dwalin, wondering if you had possibly injured him. But Dwalin nodded for you to get closer, so your feet nearly tripped underneath you as you went to Thorin’s side. His hands reached out for you, and you let Thorin take them. The rough hands were familiar, though they had turned soft in their month of disuse. But his strength was surprising in his fragile state. “They say that you are to blame for elves coming in here and checking up on me.”

You hesitated, before clearing your throat, sitting down in the chair beside him. But your hands did not stop grasping his own. “You were dying… They could heal you, so I asked. It was nothing more than-”

“Thank you.” You raised your eyes in surprise and he sighed. “I’ve been a fool. Pushing you away, accusing you of treachery and …” He seemed to stop himself before he spoke more. “You did everything you could to make sure this quest wasn’t for nothing. And I saw it as nothing more than a jealous fool.”

“Yes, I quite thought so myself,” you agreed, a small laugh taking you by surprise. It had been so long since you laughed. “Azog is dead.”

“As Dwalin tells me,” Thorin stated, glancing to the dwarf still in the doorway. “And Fili and Kili are healing as well, in their chambers?”

“Yes, I have not been allowed to see them, but the elves say they are healing well, too.” You glanced to the bandages wrapped around his bare chest. Though you knew that he was not in danger of dying, you could tell it still hurt to breathe. “You were stabbed through the ribs, rupturing your lung. You were lucky that you didn’t choke on your own blood. When I came across you and Bilbo, Thranduil was only feet behind, and Bilbo said you were gone, but… But you weren’t. There was still some life in you.” Thorin’s expression closed off at the mention of the elven king. “I begged him to heal you. I knew he could. He was the only one that could, and he agreed easily.”

“Was there a deal?”

“Thorin,” Dwalin warned. Thorin closed his eyes, his breath leaving him.

But you spoke anyway. “No deal. He just did it.” You made no mention of the fact that you had given him the necklace of starlight gems. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better. That you’re awake.”

“I’ve been awake for days, with no one but elf filth and Dwalin for company. You can imagine how well that’s been.”

“Oin and Gloin are with Fili and Kili,” you answered quietly. “The elves prefer to have a dwarf in their company, so that nothing bad can be said about the methods they’re using. They do not want to be misinterpreted. It's… generous. Very generous what they’ve done so far. Anyone hurt in battle they’ve had their hand in helping heal. So many have survived thanks to them.”

Thorin released a breath. “I was so wrong about you.” Your heart stopped and you felt yourself frowning.

“About me?” your voice sounded, and it sounded small, like a whimper.

“Thorin perhaps this isn’t the best time,” Dwalin’s voice sounded. “Maybe you should rest. You’ve been up a while.”

Did Dwalin know what this was about?

“No, I must,” Thorin insisted. He gripped your hands tightly. His breath was a bit ragged, but he spoke carefully. “You defied everything we’ve been telling you. You betrayed not only my trust, but the company’s. You slept with the elven king to free us from an eternity in prison. And you stole gems from right under my nose so that you could return them to him.” So… he did know about the gems. How on earth? You glanced to Dwalin, sharply, but he shook his head. You then glanced towards Thorin.

“In all fairness, it’s because I stole the gems that he saved your life,” you felt the need to admit. “Otherwise, I’m fairly certain he would have let you die.”

Thorin shook his head carefully. “You left everything behind, you gave up everything, to keep me alive and to help finish this quest.” He released your hands, and reached for a piece of cloth on the tray beside him. He pressed it to your hands and it was difficult to decipher what he wanted. “This was given to me this morning, by the elf King.” You stared at the cloth, confused. “Unwrap it.”

Oh. Duh. You were careful, setting it down on your lap and you unwrapped it from the fine, silk cloth that the object was wrapped in. And then you discovered it. As promised. The bead was the same as the day you had last seen it, Durinsdam etched into the side. Your breath left you and you glanced up towards Thorin in surprise. “What?”

“The King gave it to me this morning, telling me everything you told him.” You swallowed, waiting for him to continue as you glanced down to the bead, your hands shaking as you moved to grab it. “It was admirable.”

“What? Ishke kahkfe andu null?” you asked lightly, and Thorin snorted.

“No. Though, that as well.” You glanced up to see him watching you. You glanced away. “He says you did nothing without thinking of this quest. Your requests were to further ensure we made it to Erebor. And that you knew that if you accepted the deal, it may have meant never being in my favor again.”

“It was a risk I had to take.”

He glanced away from her. “I know. And I was spiteful, with the things I said to you. You were the only one using your head. And I wouldn’t listen. I could have prevented everything if I had simply promised him the gems myself.” You had thought it yourself, but didn’t dare voice it to him. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you insisted to him. “Really, Thorin. You weren’t right in the head. You were sick. I owe you everything just for letting me go on this quest, and not kicking me out in Rivendell. I’ve gained so much-”

“You never wanted your share of the gold. Just a handful,” Thorin said quietly. “Just enough to pay for you to find a place. That’s what you told Bilbo.” You frowned, giving a small nod. “You never wanted to fight Orcs or to get kidnapped by the elves or anything. And it is because of me that you went onto this journey-”

“How can you blame this all on yourself?”

“Because it is my fault-”

“Thorin-”

“Let me finish,” he insisted. “I was a fool, Y/N. But I would like nothing more than to fix my mistakes, right my wrongs. And keep courting.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “If you would like that, as well.”

Your breath came out in a fast gasp and then you glanced back up to him. “Of course I would like that. I thought you asked me here to banish me from the kingdom-”

“Banish you?” Thorin asked, alarmed, but he started to cough and you rose suddenly, alarmed, but Dwalin stopped you from getting too close. 

“You need to rest, Thorin,” Dwalin stated sharply.

“No,” Thorin insisted. He settled himself and gave a small sigh. “I was never going to banish you, amralime. I want you to stay by my side, not go back to the Shire, for as long as you’ll have me. If you’ll have my heart.”

“Of course,” you insisted. “Of course I will.” You moved as close to him as you would dare, gripping his hands. “If you’ll have mine.”

“I never let go of it.”

“Nor did I yours.” He gave a small smile.

“There’s more-”

“Surely it can wait, Thorin.”

“I would like to put the bead in your hair,” he pressed stubbornly.

“Thorin,” you whispered. “You must rest. Besides, my hair is too short to braid.” His eyes focused on you, taking in the choppy haircut that had been done in battle. Ori had tried to fix it, but it was helpless.

“It’s beautiful,” he said hoarsely. And you were alarmed to see tears in his eyes. “When I saw you cut it… when I saw you fall-”

“Thorin,” you said gently. “Maybe Dwalin’s right…”

“Then the other gift,” he insisted. He reached with one hand to the other cloth on the tray, and his other hand did not leave yours. He pressed it into your hand as Dwalin backed towards the door. “I do not want to waste any time. I am not young, and Erebor will need an abundance of help before it is ready to be functioning as a mine as well, but… I would be honored if you would accept this.”

His eyes were unreadable, unable to distinguish anything, and you glanced down to the package, releasing his hand to unwrap it. A beautiful dagger with the same white starlight gems as the necklace you returned glinted in your hands, from the candle light beside you. You stared at it in awe before glancing up to Thorin. “Are these… the starlight gems? I… I don’t understand.”

“I woke a few days ago and requested this be made. An elf, the Prince, gave these gems to me to be used for it, if I desired. A sign of peace.”

“I don’t understand what this is, Thorin,” you admitted. “This looks like a dagger to me.” You dared not hope it meant the same as the dagger you carried with you all this time.

“I forget how little you know of dwarf customs.” He gestured to it. “It’s a part of courtship. By accepting the dagger, you agree to marry me.” Marriage? You had been so sure that he wouldn't… that he wouldn’t propose. “I have spoken to Dwalin on the matter. I understand that you two have… discovered that you are related.”

“My father,” you murmured. And you stared at the dagger again, confused. “This… this is so …”

“If you do not accept, I will understand. It will take a lot to win back your trust-”

“Won’t you sister disapprove of me?” you questioned. “And all those tests – I’m not queen material, Thorin. I couldn’t tell you the Iron Hills from the Misty Moutnains-”

“I should hope you could,” he chuckled. “They’re on opposite sides of a map, and one is larger than the other.” Perhaps it was a bad example. “I do not care for any quiz or test or anything of the sort. My sister’s opinion means nothing. Because I know that you are exactly who I want beside me. I know that you are my queen, and I know that you are who I love more than anything. More than gold, more than gems. You are my one.”

You swallowed, staring down at the dagger. “Then you’ll know that I will just screw up being Queen, offend some realm-”

“You’ve already won over the Woodland realm, our greatest foes. You’ve won over the men of Dale, the dwarves of the Iron Hills. The elves of Rivendell. You’ve won them over, and it is because of you that we even sit here.” You closed your hand around the dagger, the cloth stopping the bite from hitting your  palm. “It would be an honor to have you as my wife.”

“I…” You felt tears gather in  your eyes and you fell into the seat beside him. “Thorin, I…”

“I understand. Is it the elf you want?”

You stared up at him incredulously. “I was going to say yes, you idiot,” you snapped, but lightly. “I will marry you, I just don’t think it’d be any good for the kingdom. And… I couldn’t come up with a response that was as lovely as your poetic speech.” Thorin chuckled. “I will marry you, but I fear your sister won’t-”

“You’ve saved her sons from death,” Thorin said simply. “If she hates you for that, then she’s got other problems.”

You set the dagger down, before approaching Thorin, giving him a small kiss on the temple. “Then I accept it. But it is best that you rest, now. You’ll need it.”

“The bead.”

“The bead can wait,” you said gently. “But you must rest, gather your strength.”

“How much gold have you given away?” His tone wasn’t spiteful, but instead light, curious, as if trying to deflect the decision of leaving him to rest.

You giggled. “Plenty. But you’ve still plenty left. You needn’t worry. We paid Laketown for it’s destruction, the elven king for what was promised, and Dain for his troubles. And of course the company got their dues in the contract.”

“And you? Your handful?”

“I’ve no want for a handful of gold when the greater prize is you.” He chuckled. “Rest, Thorin, please.”

“Stay with me.”

“That would defeat the purpose of resting,” you pointed out. “I’m sorry, but you do need sleep.” He sighed and didn’t protest, betraying how tired he still was. “I’ll check on you in the morning, I promise. But you must rest. Your cousin has invited me to dinner, and it’s drawing near.”

He took in your attire. “I hope you’re going like that.”

“Why? Should I change?”

“No. I do not want you wearing court dresses unless you wish.”

“Good, I wasn’t planning on it. I’ve grown much too comfortable in this attire.” He chuckled, and grasped your hands, squeezing them before you picked up both cloths and kissed his temple once more. “Rest. I’ll see you soon.”

“Wait, the Arkenstone?”

You stared at him, your heart aching. The Arkenstone. What had caused this curse. “It was destroyed. We all ensured it. It is cursed. I watched as it was blown to pieces the dust cast into the lake to be eaten by the fish.” He exhaled, as if his fight had left him. “It was no good, Thorin.”

“Yes, it's… it’s better gone.” You hated lying to him, but knew it must be done. Everyone had agreed. Only Bilbo and you knew where it rested. And Bilbo would not tell a soul, neither would you. But there was certainty that no one would ever find it. “Thank you.” The sincerity of his thanks shocked you. But he seemed relieved, as if just knowing the Arkenstone was around would drive him mad again.

“I do not want you getting sick again.”

“Nor do I. I lost myself.”

“You cured yourself,” you said quietly.

“You cured me. The moment I saw you down there, the moment I thought you had betrayed me… I feared the worst.” You gave him a soft smile. “You shine brighter than any Arkenstone, amralime. There is no greater gem in this mountain than you, and I was a fool to be blinded from it.” You felt tears well in your eyes as you gave a small smile. “Promise me you will not betray me.”

“I promise.” You stepped away from him. “Now rest, Thorin. I won’t tell you again.”

“Aye, rest sounds good.” And you gave him a gentle smile before turning and stepping out of the room, Dwalin quick behind.

“You lied to him."

“It’s better he thinks it gone,” you told Dwalin quietly. “You know that. If not, he will search for it. No one will find it where Bilbo and I have hidden it.”

“Where you will hide it,” Dwalin returned. “You haven’t hidden it yet.”

You hesitated. “Yes, well… white lies.” He sighed. “I don’t like it.”

“It’s better this way. You know it. That jewel is what caused the sickness, and that jewel must be taken away from him to ensure it’s gone. Everyone is in agreement.”

“I know, lass,” Dwalin sighed. He glanced to the cloths in your hand. “That dagger was the first thing he asked for when he woke.” You glanced down at the wrapped item. A betrothal item. “And he said as soon as it was finished, he wanted you brought to him.”

“I did not think he would mean it,” you said quietly. “I truly thought that he would not welcome me warmly.”

“What a mistake,” Dwalin snorted. “He hasn’t stopped mooning over you. He really thinks that you would hate him. I tried to tell him that you were just hurt, not betrayed.”

“On second thought, he still didn’t apologize for the slap in the face. Maybe I should go back in there and give him a few choice words.”

“Aye, do, but once he’s better,” Dwalin laughed quietly. “Alright?”

You counted on it. You hugged Dwalin tightly. “Will you be joining us for dinner, or holed up here? I don’t think I’ve seen you at all since they took him away.”

“No, I don’t think so either. I’ll be seeing you shortly out of this prison.” You smiled, amused. “Once he’s able to start walking around.”

You looked forward to it. You had twenty years to catch up on.


	14. King of Oak Trees

You and Thorin were arm in arm, not because he was escorting you, but because you were being a support as he walked down the halls of Erebor. “It is as it was when I was a child,” Thorin was murmuring, his eyes taking in the jade walls and the crystal lamps that blazed brightly.

“The forges are still burning, but there are not enough dwarves that have returned to mine it yet,” you spoke quietly. “Apparently a fire as hot as that is hard to stop from burning once a dragon has lit it. Very smart thinking, you know.”

“I was thinking, what would Y/N do?” Thorin quipped.

“No, you weren’t.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Thorin agreed. “I was mostly thinking – how do I keep this dragon away from my gold.”

You hummed. “That sounds more likely.”

“I would like to go to the throne room.”

“Thorin, that is very far away-”

“Then we will rest for a moment before heading there,” he spoke sharply. And so you moved towards the wall, and he released your arm, leaning against the jade walls as he exhaled.

“Are you in pain?”

“No, just need a moment to rest my legs,” he muttered. You could tell it wounded him to admit that, so you did not press. He glanced up to you suddenly. “Do you have the bead I gave you with you?”

“Yes…” You reached up to your collar of your tunic, and pulled the silver chain out, where the bead was resting. He seemed relieved that you carried it. “My hair is too short to put it into, so-”

“It’s not that short at all,” Thorin countered, confused.

“But I’ve tried braiding my hair, and it doesn’t stay very well,” you admitted.

Thorin raised an eyebrow. “Obviously you are not skilled at braiding.”

“And you are not skilled at comforting a woman that just lost years of her hair,” you returned with a small smile. You pulled the chain off, handing it to Thorin. “Fine. Have at it.”

It seemed to be what he wanted to ask all along. He slid the bead off of the chain, before he tugged your arm, bringing you closer to him. And then his hands were running through your hair, pulling the braid tight against your temple, and down the length of your hair. The bead clipped into place almost immediately following. Frowning, your hand gently felt along the braid. “Oh.”

“I just have a better skill at braiding than you,” Thorin murmured, and his lips found yours for a heated kiss. You giggled, pulling away.

“I’ve been given strict orders to make sure you breathe normally until you’re given clearance to heal. That is why we’re walking so slow. Now, kissing is a violation of that rule.”

“I care not. I wish to make up to you what I have done-”

“Thorin,” you chided. He had put enough blame on himself. And you understood that he could not help what he did when he was sick.

“I struck you.”

“You also called me a whore, but we both know that wasn’t you.” His hands faltered in your hair, and he retracted them, gripping his right wrist tightly, as if restraining himself from saying something. You eyed him curiously. “You have said your apologies a thousandfold. I forgive you, my King.”

“What I have done is unforgivable. A woman is to be cherished, not … not treated like an object.”

You sighed. “I know, you have said it a thousand times. I’m fine. It’s over. You’re better now.” He exhaled. “What’s wrong with your wrist, amralime? You keep touching it-”

“It’s nothing-” You shot him a glare and he growled before holding it out to you. You lifted the cuff of his robe and you felt queasy as you spotted the amulet. It had been knotted around his wrist like a bracelet, a reminder.

“You torture yourself for no reason.”

“I do not want to forget.”

“I do,” you stressed. “Take it off and cast it away. I do not want you to dwell on any of this. We have our own future ahead of us, with nothing in the past to taint it.”

“Amralime-”

“No,” you interrupted. “Thorin. Please, stop doing this to yourself. I know you are remorseful, but you must move on from it. I have. Dwalin… well, he is not impressed, but he has as well.” He lowered his gaze before nodding. And his fingers tugged at the clasp, sending it falling into your palm. You slid it into your pocket a second later, out of sight. “There. I will send it to the forges to be melted. How is that? A new beginning.”

“Y/N-”

“Thorin,” you warned.

“It sounds acceptable.” You nodded, satisfied. And you kissed his jaw lightly.

“I love you, for who you are, not what you’ve done.”

“A man is what he’s done to others.”

“You’re a dwarf, not a man,” you corrected warmly. “Now, would you like to see just how much has changed to your throne room?”

“I should hope not a lot.”

“A breath of fresh air,” you giggled. But you gave him one lingering kiss, before taking his arm, and the slow walk began once more. “And some more natural light. Honestly, you could grow paler than elves with how little light is in this place.”

“It is because there is no light that makes it impregnable.”

“Save for from dragons,” you countered. He had no argument for that. You had taken Thorin on little walks around the halls near his chambers, to give Dwalin some peace. But that had been days ago. And Thorin was growing agitated with being unable to walk to the entrance of his kingdom. But a few kisses and a sweet smile usually had him sigh before agreeing to wait a little longer.

You didn’t want him to hurt himself further. Your arrival to the throne room was not anticipated, but it was certainly noticed. Thorin exhaled upon seeing the throne of his kingdom empty, Dain instead sitting in a steward’s chair off to the side, Balin standing beside him as they discussed something. But Balin noticed Thorin first, and then Dain.

“Cousin!” Dain boomed, pushing himself out of the chair and approaching Thorin with a wide grin. His hearty hug was obviously painful to Thorin, who gave a small gasp. And then the dwarf from the Iron Hills moved towards you, taking the hand not around Thorin’s own, and kissing it lightly. “My Lady! I did not think you would be coming to these parts so soon.”

“I was determined,” Thorin spoke. His eyes did not waver from the throne.

“She’s yours to rest yourself, and to rule,” Dain chuckled. “Haven’t kept her warm for you, though, you’ll have to forgive me.”

“No… no, it’s alright,” Thorin murmured. And suddenly he glanced to you, as if remembering you were there. His other hand squeezed your link arm, and then he let go. You let him, giving an understanding smile. And then he was moving himself towards the throne, he steps carefully, and he had a distinct lean on one side to keep from moving the muscles in his stomach. But he walked as well as he could to the throne. Dori scrambled to offer him support as he went up the stairs of the throne, and then Thorin turned, sitting himself down. His hands stretched out over the arm rests, and his eyes seemed to take in everything around him.

And then his eyes dropped to you. “Come here. There is something I wish to show you.” You could not see anything out of the ordinary of the hall, but you approached the throne carefully, wondering if you should at least try a curtsey, but he reached for your hand, and you were surprised as he tugged you up the stairs, turning you so that you stood in front of him. And your feet tangled with his boots, and your eyes darted around to see the handful of dwarves.

“I don’t see anything in particular,” you admitted after a moment.

“Everything is yours,” Thorin spoke in a rumble. “The golden floors, the jade pillars, the marble halls. Every whisper in this hall, you will hear. Every face you will remember and control. You are my queen, and together we will sit up here and rule all of the great city of Erebor.”

Oh… Why… that was a lot of power. Power that you didn’t exactly know how to handle. “It is beautiful,” you admitted quietly. “And the hall stays relatively warm, being above the forges.”

Thorin chuckled, and his grip on your waist did not falter. “It will all be yours, once we are wed. All of it.”

“I only wanted a handful.”

“Luck of the draw.” Your laugh sounded, echoing in the chamber.

You waited until he was resting in his chambers again before you breached the topic. “Bilbo is returning to the Shire tonight.”

“Yes, he said so this morning. I’ve said my goodbyes to our Master Burglar.”

You chewed on your lip. “I’m going with him, to see East Farthing once more, and then I’ll be back.”

Thorin started, sitting upright in the bed with an alarmed look on his face. “You’re leaving?” he asked in surprise.

“I’m going with the team of elves to escort Bilbo to the Shire,” you insisted. “Bilbo and I are quite good friends, you know. Lord Elrond is riding with us west, and his own personal guards are going to follow me back. When I reach Mirkwood, Legolas himself will take me back to Erebor’s gates. I will be well protected.”

“I do not doubt the protection of this troupe, it is the fact that you are leaving with that hobbit that worries me,” Thorin said stiffly.

You frowned. “Bilbo? If anything, Bilbo is careful.”

“I do not like it.”

“Thorin, you’re being unreasonable,” you reprimanded. “I’m riding west with Bilbo to make sure he’s safe in his hobbit hole once more, and there’s nothing more of it. He deserves to be escorted back. He’s gone through hell with us.”

Thorin sighed. “I forbid it.”

You stared at him incredulously. “Mahal, Thorin… Are you jealous?”

“Of course not.” But the defensive tone. You rolled your eyes.

“I’m engaged to marry you, Thorin. If I was going to run off with Bilbo, I would have certainly done it while you were unconscious for near a month. Besides, I’d like to visit my mother’s grave, as well as see how my old home is looking. It will be a quick trip. We’ll ride the Gap of Rohan, not risk the Orcs or the Stone Giants. And we’ll make our way up the mountains to Rivendell. Not around. And on my way back, we’re going through the north, towards Khazad Dum.”

He shook his head. “No, you will ride the same way you go.”

“And if people are waiting?”

He clenched his jaw. “Then take the mountain pass.”

You rolled your eyes. “We will make it back, Thorin, in one piece, as I always tend to do. You must trust me to be okay on this journey.”

“I do trust you, aye, it’s Bilbo I do not trust with you.” Correction, it was the Mirkwood elves. Despite what they had done to keep Thorin in pristine condition, he was not fond in the slightest.

“And why not?”

“Because he reminds you of a simple time, with a simple home, and a simple life. And Erebor is nothing like that.”

“But it’s still home,” you said gently. You kissed him lightly, before grabbing the bag you had packed, slinging it over your hsoulder, and then your quiver and bow. “I love you, but I must leave.”

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

You sighed. “Thorin, I’ll be back before you know it. This gives you plenty of time to get the kingdom back in order without worrying about me, or being distracted by me, more like. And once I get back, we can plan our wedding, and I can officially meet your sister, and everything will be swell in the world, right? And Fili and Kili will be moving around and back to full strength, if what I’ve heard has meant anything.”

“I… Yes, I guess.” You gave a firm nod. “Send a raven if there’s need to send word of something.”

“I know, Thorin. I will see you soon. Goodbye.”

He growled, pulling you close to him fiercely and giving you a kiss that took your breath away. “Remember that I will give you that and more while you’re tucked away in that hobbit hole.” Jealous Thorin was ridiculous. But you rolled your eyes, kissing the corner of his mouth, as you pulled away. “I love you, amralime.”

“And I love you.”

The trip lasted three months to get to the Shire. There was very little stopping, and elves seemed to move faster than grumpy ill-prepared dwarves. The elven camp was set up in the enchanted forest, leaving you and Bilbo alone to the privacy of his home, nearly empty of all of his possessions. But as you two laughed, rolling your bedrolls onto the wooden floor, you couldn’t help but say, “The comforts of home with the comforts of the road.”

“It’ll take some getting used to – this sleeping in Bag End with no dwarves about or danger looming.”

“I’ll miss the road,” you murmured. “The nights under the stars with no obligations but to keep moving forward.”

“You’ll make a fine queen, Y/N.”

You found a blush coating your cheeks as you both stretched in front of the fire. “You are a wonderful friend, Bilbo. And I am so glad to have met you. You will be most assured that I will visit you time and time again, if that’s acceptable.”

He chuckled. “You needn’t knock, I’ve told you.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “By the time I return, Balin will be planning his reclaiming of Moira. He’ll have a quest of his own, soon.”

“And you’ll have one yourself. Not only getting back, but learning that life.”

“It may be silly, but… if there’s one thing I know already I’ll miss, it’ll be the light.” He seemed to understand. “Erebor is beautiful, but I will want nothing more than to open a window to my bedroom or feel the sun as I wake.”

“But you’ll have Thorin.”

“Yes, I’ll have Thorin.” And still you couldn’t believe the Dwarven king had forgiven you for what you had done in Mirkwood. For what you had stolen from the treasure horde. But he had. He had overcome his dragon sickness, he had apologized for everything he said. He was your king, your One, your only. “Always.”

“He loves you very much.” You glanced to Bilbo to see him staring off into the fire, a smile on his face. “I saw him, you know, once he first woke. And it was when Thranduil was there, talking to him about what you had done in Mirkwood.”

You shut your eyes. “I’m sure there were a few choice words thrown about.”

“A few,” Bilbo agreed warmly. “But it was mostly Thranduil admitting that you were not to blame for a dwarf’s stubbornness and stupidity. You had a decent sense of pride, but not a mountain of it.” You opened your eyes. “Those were exact words, by the way. You seem to have made quite an impression on him.”

“I think the impression came from the fact that I had the nerve to talk back, to demand things of him like I was in charge not him.” Bilbo hummed. “I don’t know why, but he did listen to me when I begged him to heal Thorin and the others. And he lent his forces, even when moments before he was going to retreat.”

“If there’s anything they have in common, it’s definitely pride.”

You couldn’t help but agree. “You never said how you got into Mirkwood.”

“I slipped in through the door when a guard wasn’t looking.”

A laugh escaped you. “You truly are a Master Burglar, aren’t you? I wish you could come to the wedding. I know Thorin would want you there.”

“And be thrown from the dias? No, I don’t think so.”

You giggled. “Very well. But we will think of you. You were the one that made everything possible, and I never want you to forget that. You were the one that first introduced me to Thorin, technically, that stayed by my side no matter what had happened. You had been the first at Thorin’s side as he laid dying, had ridden with me to an almost certain death on that hill. You are a remarkable hobbit, Bilbo, and I never want you to think that you are less than that.”

“And you are a magnificent half-dwarf woman.” You gave a small giggle. “No, I truly mean it. Loyal and logical and you definitely won’t take no for an answer. It’s a wonder we didn’t make it to Erebor sooner.”

“Ah, that would be where stubbornness of a certain dwarf king lies.”

A sigh left you both as you seemed to agree with one another. Thorin and his stubbornness were infuriating. “Speaking of,” Bilbo said quietly. “We had best get started.”

“Yes, it is nightfall,” you agreed. “No better time than now.”

The deep hole was dug in mere minutes with your old farm skills you hadn’t put to work in what felt like decades. And down went the small chest you had hid the precious Arkenstone in. And then a few layers of dirt before finally Bilbo placed the acorn down. “An oak tree,” you murmured. “How fitting.”

“I picked it up in Beorn’s garden, as a reminder.”

And his words brought tears to your eyes. “Such a simple token for such a grueling journey. I was thinking more along the lines of Oakenshield. Oak.”

Bilbo considered it as he gently smoothed some dirt atop the lone little acorn. “Perhaps that as well. A legend that they will tell for ages, and no one but I will have an oak tree growing as a reminder. It’ll be the King of Oak Trees.”

You laughed and put your arms around the small man, hugging him to you. He did not hesitate to embrace you back. “Let your tree grow and let it provide a good shade upon your home for the hot summer months. And go back to your seven meals a day and your handkerchiefs.” Your voice felt wobbly, and you pulled back, knowing you had to take your leave. “And for Mahal’s sake, do not let a single person – dwarf, Orc, or otherwise take that stone from you. Or convince you to go on any more adventures.”

“No one will even know it’s there,” Bilbo assured you. And you knew it was true. It was why you had decided to dig in the middle of the night and why you were out here with just the moon’s light for guidance. “You’ll have a safe journey, I hope.”

“I will,” you promised. “And you have a good life here, Bilbo. If you ever have a want to visit, do not hesitate. I’m sure Thorin would be more than happy to send for an escort.”

“We will keep in touch?”

“I sure hope so, Bilbo Baggins. Good friends are hard to come by. And you are simply one of a kind.” He swallowed, nodding.

“Give everyone my best for me, will you?”

“Of course. And you better not forget about me.”

“I don’t think anyone could.”

You hugged him once more in farewell, before you picked up your pack, lighter than it had been since you had last worn it. One burden lighter, at least. “Tea is at four, and dinner is near seven. I’ll make sure we have some of your tea cakes, and you be sure to whisper that recipe for your baked fish whenever you get the chance.”

He gave a nod and you found yourself heading down the path. You hadn’t even made it to the bottom of the hill when you heard him cry out. “The secret is kingsfoil!” A laugh left you, and you turned, just long enough to see him give a final wave, and then you kept walking, not looking back until you had reached a considerable distance. And when you did, you memorized every detail of the little house under the hill where your life had changed so immeasurably. Because it would be the last you would ever see it until you were old and frail, and no longer Queen Under the Mountain, but instead the Queen mother, and had nothing to stop you from seeing your dear old friend for one last time.


	15. Fiddling with Responsibilities

With Bilbo far behind, the brief stay in Rivendell meant Elrond introducing you to his daughter, Arwen, and his two sons, Elrohir and Elladan. And the man that had been brought in with Legolas himself – someone you hadn’t thought to see so soon. A half-elf man who went by the name of Strider.

Legolas offered to accompany you to Erebor, as he was to report back to his father, and so after thanking Lord Elrond for his help, you and Legolas rode through the mountains, not stopping until you reached the other side of the hills and rested at the base of the Old Forest Road.

It was strange, following your trail exactly as you had in the quest, only to find that it was peaceful, nothing like it had been the first round. You could take in the beauty of the world with ease. And though you two rode hard, you were able to rest more.

The true path through Mirkwood was tricky, dangerous, dark, but beautiful. And though your head became heavy with fog, you were often snapped out of it when you heard the creaking of the trees nearby or the sound of creatures living in the distance.

“When we were here last time,” you spoke quietly to Legolas as your horses trudged on, though it was no place for a horse. “There was a great white elk that seemed to be a beacon in this bleakness.”

Legolas heard, but did not comment for some time and when he did, his voice was grave. “It is said that is the spirit of the forest. The last natural guardian of it before the task falls to the elves.”

“And will it?”

“All things will die.” So that was a yes, then. They did not enter Mirkwood, simply due to the fact that it would slow them down. And when the Lonely Mountain came into view on the lakeside, your horse halted as you took it in. It was home now. Home under the mountain. Where you would be queen.

“My Lady?”

“I do not know if I can be queen,” you admitted to the elf you had become close friends with in your travels. Legolas did not seemed surprised by your doubts. “I do not know of customs which are natural to them. I do not even know what dwarves wear in court.”

“Much the same as they wear into battle or in their every day lives, though I imagine it will be an improvement to what they were wearing on the road.” You knew it was an ill attempt at humor.

“I haven’t worn a dress in three years. I don’t even remember how to lace a corset,” you admitted, chewing on your lip nervously. “I don’t know what to wear at all. And there is the entire matter of his sister. I know she arrived while I was away, and if I show up like this-”

“The King loves you not for your appearance, but for you personality. Such fears are natural, but unnecessary. If the King truly cared for what you wore, would he have not demanded you change for the journey west?” You didn’t have an answer. “We can rest on the shore of the lake tonight. And we will make for the mountain tomorrow.”

You nodded. “Thank you, Legolas. For all you’ve done.”

“As you’ve mentioned before.” You both dismounted from your horses, the familiar stone under your feet from where you had departed from Mirkwood in what felt like ages ago, but was it truly only nearly seven months?

“Why did you journey west in the first place?”

“I escorted Bilbo home and hoped to see my mother’s grave, to say goodbye to her. I will likely not see her for some time now. There are so many things to be done.”

The land was no longer strewn with bodies and the bridge connecting the doors of Erebor to the land of Dale had been repaired. Legolas rode beside you as you approached the gate, and it seemed that whoever it was inside was expecting your arrival, as the gates opened and out rode a few horses themselves. Your heart swelled at seeing Thorin and when he dropped from his pony, you found yourself stepping off of your own.

“Amralime,” he murmured as he embraced you. He looks fantastic, like the dwarf he was before the battle. The dwarf he was before he was sick.

“Thorin,” you returned. “It’s been so long, I feel like years have separated us.”

“Yes, I feel it as well.”

But he simply placed a light kiss to your lips. “You look as if you came across no trouble.”

“No, it was a rather smooth journey. I left Bilbo’s house around three months ago and stopped in Rivendell about a month after. It is there that Legolas and I set out alone, following the same path we took on the quest. Everything is so different in the summer in the mountains.” Thorin frowned slightly, glancing to the elf that was swinging down from his horse. “We didn’t stop in the mountains. We rode straight through.”

“He has been the only one escorting you?” Thorin asked quietly, confused.

“Just after Rivendell. We took the Old Forest Road so that I wouldn’t get lost. Apparently elves are resistant to the enchantments on it.”

Thorin gave a short nod to the elf. “Thank you for escorting her. You are welcome to stay and rest before returning to your home.”

“Thank you,” Legolas spoke. “But I should try to make amends with my father. Has Tauriel left yet?”

“She is choosing to stay with us,” Thorin said, and he didn’t seem particularly pleased. “I’m afraid my nephew insists upon it. She saved his life.”

“And I saved yours,” Legolas returned. But he gave a small nod. “I will be going now. Farewell, Lady Y/N. I will be looking forward to hear the tales of your reign.”

You rolled your eyes, but nodded to the elf. “Thank you for escorting me, Prince Legolas. It was very kind.”

The elf merely nodded again, taking his time to mount his horse, before nodding one last time and riding off. Thorin’s serious face became more worried as he looked you over. “He has not hurt you?”

“No, my king,” you said quietly. “He has not. If anything, he has made sure that we did not delay nor get captured by any elves or orcs on the way.” He gave you a wry grin. “The same can’t be said for someone else I know.”

“And I have apologized for that.”

“Pride,” you teased. He cleared his throat suddenly, turning towards the others on their ponies that were behind you. You straightened as you seemed to recognize the features of one. Though the dwarf didn’t look exactly like Thorin, there were distinct similarities. Very, very distinct. One being the black, wavy hair that flowed down the dwarf’s back. And if it hadn’t have been for the artfully braided beard, you would have been sure that it was a male, but it was definitely a woman. They were wearing skirts and had gems of amber and rubies adorning not only their fingers and neck, but also woven into their hair. Lady Dis.

Subconsciously, you straightened, and smoothed your hair down. It was wild from the journey and you were a bit more filthy than you wanted to be.

“Allow me to introduce you to my sister, Lady Dis.”

“An honor,” you said politely, curtsying the best you could. It wasn’t a skill you had much time to practice on. The last you had curtsied, it had been a sarcastic one to the Elven prince, and even then you felt like you were going to fall flat on your face. You prayed this didn’t come off as sarcastic. The woman was eyeing you critically, as if judging you already. “Thorin has told me so much about you.”

“So you are the one he intends to marry.”

“I… I pray that is still the case,” you admitted after a moment of hesitation.

She pursed her lips, looking you over again. “And can you name the last five dwarven kings under the mountain?”

“I…” You bit your lip, wondering if the tests were starting now. You couldn’t even remember your own name with the way she was glaring at you. “I’m certain that there was Thror, Thrain and Thorin the second.” She didn’t seem amused. “I’m afraid I don’t know beyond that. I apologize.”

“She has only just come off the road, sister. I am sure she is tired and would like her rest. Perhaps a meal to welcome you home, and then we’ll bring you to your chambers,” Thorin said, and he took the reigns to your horse, his other hand resting at the small of your back as he guided you through the gates on foot, forgetting of the other dwarves on pony. “You have not yet seen the magnificence of Erebor since you were away. The lanterns have been lit, and the mines are running once more.”

“Are Fili and Kili roaming around, causing trouble?” you asked the closer the gates became. “You said Tauriel was staying-”

“They're… as bothersome as they were on the quest. Kili and Tauriel began courting last month.” Thorin look less than pleased with that statement. “And Fili is doing what he can to help me as much as possible. They could be worse.”

But you were relieved that they healed well. “And Dain?”

“Sends his welcome, but he is back in the Iron Hills. Once Dis arrived, he saw no need to stay any longer and put his own throne at jeopardy.”

And indeed, Erebor was stunning. People bustled about doing their every day things, dressed in fine colors from red to blue to greens, and some even blacks. You could see some moving furniture, while others were loading up wagons near the gate. And statues were being carved that had once crumbled.

“This is our home,” Thorin spoke into your ear as you took it all in. “Do you like it?”

“I could not ask for more,” you whispered.

It was a restful first day, but the weeks that followed were full of running around, planning the wedding, and memorizing as many facts as you could in order to gain Lady Dis’s approval. Well, it wasn’t like she didn’t approve, it was more she felt you were unprepared for the wedding, and subsequent coronation the next day. And while nights sharing Thorin’s bedchamber were nice – very, very nice – you wanted nothing more to escape to them as Lady Dis kept pressing you to get the kings straight, or the etiquette right.

You finally had your chance to disappear one evening after lunch, and you seized it, knocking on the chambers you knew to be your father’s, and ducked inside once the door was open. “I do hope no one saw me.”

“I dare say even I didn’t see you at first,” Dwalin said slowly. “What’s going on?”

“Lady Dis is driving me insane,” you groaned. “Now that I’ve finally got etiquette down, we’ve moved onto more kings. And then there’s the whole wedding thing. She mentioned marriage braids. I don’t know marriage braids,” you admitted to Dwalin. “I know it’s specific, and it has to be done a certain way, but I’ve no clue how to do one. You lot went to school for these braiding things and had them learned since birth. And I can’t even tell between a courtship braid, a protection braid or a marriage braid,” you admitted to Dwalin.

He stared at you a long moment, before grunting. “Come here, lass. You’ll need someone to practice on and you can’t exactly use Thorin until the wedding.”

“But… don’t these braids mean something?” you questioned, confused.

“And I’m your father, so it’s not a taboo of any sort,” he grunted. “Now get over here and I’ll tell you what to do.” Hesitantly, you stepped closer to your father, sitting down on the cushions as he turned his back to you, letting you see in the mirror his face. “Now, a marriage braid typically involves all elements of a dwarf’s hair, and once in, it cannot be changed.”

“I don’t understand what that means.”

“It means, once you braid it, that’s how it will look until he dies.” Oh, so no pressure. “Now, he’s not got a long beard, so you won’t have to worry about tying that in. You’ve seen Dori’s braids.”

You had. The complicated mess that was so elegant that you knew it took his wife a great deal of time to do that. “So… I have to make it that complicated?”

“No, lass. It can be as simple as something Gloin has. Or Oin.” You nodded, relaxing slightly. “So, just play around with it. Keep in mind that Thorin does have a great deal more hair than I do.” You bit back the giggle, but he heard a few of it’s trills and shot a glare at you through the mirror. “That wasn’t funny, lass.”

“No, I know.” But you still shot him an amused look. “But is there a certain order? I feel like there is something that is in order about this mess.”

“Mess?” He raised an eyebrow. “You think it’s a mess.”

“It’s a mess because I have no idea anything about it. I can’t even keep straight the last ten kings. And Lady Dis has been shoving their names down my throat.”

He recited them with ease, and you shot him a glare. “What?”

“I fear by the time it’s my turn to walk down the aisle, she’ll make me recite them or post pone the wedding.”

“Likely.” You groaned in despair. “The order of the braids is your business. But you typically start from top to bottom. And front to back.” Right. Okay. That wasn’t too hard. “You’ll have your own beads to put in his hair, of course, decorated how you’d like.”

“Made of dwarven iron and the house’s gems. Lady Dis informed me that was rubies and amber.”

“Aye. And he will give you the same.”

You paused, confused. “I’m getting a marriage braid, too? But… I am always doing my hair in a myriad of ways-”

“Not after marriage you won’t be. It all depends on the braid, of course, but I highly doubt it’ll be too undetectable. Thorin will want to show the entire kingdom you’re his wife.”

You frowned. “He… he made no mention of anything about the braid.”

“And he won’t until he does it in the ceremony.”

You chewed on your lip, your fingers working through Dwalin’s hair. “Oh…”

“Dwarven culture’s a great deal different from the human one.”

“Don’t remind me.” It was overwhelming, how different sometimes. “So… how do dwarven weddings work exactly? Thorin mentioned that after being walked down the aisle, we exchange the vows in Khuzdul, and then rings, before finally the braiding.”

“Aye, and a kiss. Now don’t forget that.” No, you wouldn’t be able to forget that especially. “You’ll do fine.”

“I am so worried that I will disappoint Lady Dis.”

“Lady Dis isn’t the king, Thorin is. And he decides ultimately on whether or not you pass the test. And I think it’s safe to say you do if you’re getting married.”

“Then why is she asking me all these questions?”

“Because it’ll be your duty to teach the facts to your children for them to understand their past.” Your fingers fiddled with his hair, finally drawing his beard into the mix to try and get some design you liked. A design you could stand to look at for the rest of your life beside Thorin. 

“I have no idea how to be a queen.”

“That’s for you to be taught how to do. It won’t happen overnight, lass. You needn’t worry about that.”

But you did worry, because being queen meant a great deal more than just sitting on a throne and looking pretty. There were rules and there were things to be done. At least you already had one requirement checked off – get married to the king.

“I’m going to fall flat on my face.” Dwalin sighed, but made no comment. But you knew that if there wasn’t one thing to worry about, there was another.


	16. Bundles of Joy

You had simply been helping the maids lift up the baskets, to be taken to the drying racks, when the water had broken. And nearly immediately, someone had run off to tell the King, while another had run off to fetch Oin, your personal healer. Two women attended to you, helping you to your chambers that you shared with the King.

You had barely been settled on the bed when Thorin burst through the doors, tossing his crown from his head, and shedding his heavy jacket. He rushed to your side, his hands grasping your own. And though everything was fine, his face mirrored the concern he was feeling. “What has happened? Is everything alright?” She wondered what exactly the maids had been telling him.

“I was doing some light laundry-” His look of reprimand made you press, “Light, Thorin. Just lifting the linens. And my water broke. Everything’s fine.” He still worried over you, eyeing you carefully as if you were about to burst from the seams. “I’m just going into labor.”

“It’s much too early-”

“Thorin, I missed the expected due date. I’m actually past due-”

“But you aren’t large enough.” You sighed, patting his hands, before another contraction hit you, causing you to squeeze them tightly. And, of course, that made you worried.

“I hope you weren’t doing anything important, because you won’t be getting back to it,” you said quietly, once it had passed. “You’ll be much too distracted while I’m laboring away in here, doing much more in a day than you do in a month.”

“Oh, aye, an insignificant job I have,” Thorin returned, his tone teasing, but he still frowned in worry. Whatever he had been about to say was interrupted as Lady Dis strolled into the room, Oin and a few handmaids following.

“Thorin, you cannot be in here, you know this.”

“I’m the king. I can be here if I say-”

“It’s tradition-”

“Does anything about this say tradition?” Thorin returned. But Lady Dis was firm. You, personally, did not want to see Thorin go. He gave you far more strength.

“You know it is wishing ill will upon the mother and the child,” Lady Dis warned. “Do you wish to risk that?” No, Thorin did not. He gave no protest any longer, instead kissing you lightly on the forehead.

A throat cleared in the doorway, and you glanced away from your husband of not even a year, to see Dwalin and Fili standing there, looking anxious. “Let’s go, lad,” Dwalin said gruffly. His eyes darted to you, groaning as another pain made you tense. “You’ll do marvelous, lass. Bring us that prince.”

“Or princess,” Fili quickly added. “Come on, Uncle. Let’s go.”

“I will stay with her,” Lady Dis promised. And she took Thorin’s place, gripping your hands tightly. Thorin gave you one last kiss to your forehead, and then was pulled away by Dwalin. “Just keep breathing.” You shot the dwarrowdam a glare. “I brought into this world two boys, and believe me, I know what I’m talking about. Fili took thirty six hours and Kili was just over a full day.” You groaned. You could not last that long. Already it hurt more than you ever wished to experience since the war. “You can do it, I promise you.”

“I’m scared,” you admitted in a whisper once the doors shut behind the King and his support team.

“We all are. But Thorin picked you to be his wife because you’re strong. If he wanted any of those frilly women from the Blue Mountains, he would not have hesitated. So, get yourself together, and bring this child into this world. Or I will make sure you are banned from this kingdom when it is over.” They were empty threats, you knew, but they helped.

It was gruelling and you felt like screaming more than you did, but when Lady Dis passed you the small bundle after it had been cleaned, you began crying. The child was beautiful. Their hair was black like Thorin’s and their cry was heartbreaking. A disorienting sob that was gut wrenching. As you carefully settled a bit closer to the headboard of the bed, each movement sending a ripple of soreness into your body, you were able to hold the child better.

“A girl,” Lady Dis said quietly in between cries.

You glanced up to your sister-in-law, before staring down at the tiny screaming bundle. A girl. Oh, she was darling. You used your finger, to let the child suckle on it, and the screaming stopped, and you giggled quietly, glancing up to Lady Dis. “She’s so darling.”

“She looks just like her father,” Lady Dis said quietly, peering over your arm. “Look at that stubborn brow.” And indeed, she was stubborn looking. As she suckled on your knuckle, her face was scrunched up as if it required all of her effort and concentration. “You’ll have fun with that one.”

“A girl,” you murmured. Your joy faded slightly. “Thorin will be disappointed it wasn’t a boy for an heir-”

“He’s got plenty of heirs,” Lady Dis insisted. “Thorin won’t care any which way.” You nodded. Right. Silly worries. And you smiled gently at the girl as she slowly fell asleep.

“She is beautiful,” you murmured.

“Aye, but it’s best we get you all situated, lass, and have us weigh her,” Oin said. You had forgotten the medical dwarf was there, but you nodded, letting him take the child, nervously. He was an old dwarf, and with his fading hearing, you weren’t sure what else was fading.

“I’ll get Thorin. I’m sure they’ve gone to take a walk,” Lady Dis said quietly.

You did not know how long you had been in labor, but you just knew that it felt like eternity. A maid approached, handing you fresh blankets, and you thanked her quietly, situating them over yourself. And then your daughter was being presented back to yyou, this time in a silk lined blanket that was in the brilliant ruby color of the Durin line. “A healthy girl, with all the right amount of pieces.”

A laugh left you. “I’m glad, Oin. Thank you…” And your fingers traced the girl’s hairline. When the door opened, everyone had cleared except for Oin, who seemed to be taking care in watching over the two of you. You glanced up just in time to see Thorin tenatively step through, as if making too much noise would set off a trap.

“A girl,” you murmured as he approached, and he seemed unable to take his eyes off of the girl in your arms. “She takes after you.”

“Mmm,” Thorin murmured, and you carefully lifted the girl so that she could rest in her father’s arms. Thorin did not need any coaching. You assumed that he had probably held Fili and Kili when they were this small. “She’s beautiful like her mother, though.”

“And as stubborn as her father.”

“You were in here for long enough,” Thorin grumbled. But his expression softened as he stared down at the girl and you gently patted the side of the bed, so that he could sit. “She’s much smaller than I expected.”

“Oin says she’s average size,” you murmured. “A little over average weight, as well. And the first dwarrowdam to be born in what he can ever recall since Lady Dis.”

“He doesn’t get out much,” Thorin muttered. You giggled, leaning forward so that you could peer at the girl as she slept. “Do you have a name?”

“No,” you admitted quietly.

“Lauraline is a good name,” Thorin said after a moment. You started, glancing to him in surprise. “You had to get your beauty from somewhere. Dwalin certainly doesn’t have fair features.” No, he didn’t. But Thorin glanced to you, as you remained silent, to see if it was okay. “Or would you… rather not?”

“Lauraline’s perfect,” you admitted, touched.

“Lauraline,” Thorin tested out, his large thumb rubbing against the girl’s cheek in small strokes. “I’m your father, and this is your mother, who spent a very long time bringing you into this world. You had better make sure that it isn’t in vain. I expect you to wield a sword at ten, and shoot a target by fifteen, which is much better than your mother could do, I will tell you that much.”

“Competition already?” you teased. “And a shieldmaiden? Why, my King, how unconventional.”

“You love it, don’t deny it.”

“I’m sure dad’ll love it too.”

“Love what?” Dwalin stood in the doorway, nervously, and his eyes couldn’t stop staring at Thorin’s arms. Though, you were certain it wasn’t the same reason you stared at Thorin’s arms. More specifically, Dwalin was looking at what was in Thorin’s arms.

“Thorin wants her to be a shieldmaiden already,” you explained.

“Her?” Dwalin murmured. His whole countenance changed, and Thorin stood from the edge of the bed, settling the girl into Dwalin’s arms with practiced ease. “Aye, she’s a little thing, isn’t she?” As he chuckled, the skin around his eyes crinkled and a few tears glinted in the candlelight. “Looks a bit like both of you, I should say. Thorin’s dark hair, Y/N’s mouth… Has she got a good set of lungs?”

“Just like her namesake,” you said with a small grin. Dwalin glanced up, frowning slightly. “Ma certainly did.”

“Ma?”

“Her name’s Lauraline,” Thorin admitted. The breath seemed to leave Dwalin and he sank down at the foot of the bed, and tears leaked out as he gently rocked the infant in his arms.

“Aye, she definitely could yell herself hoarse and make sure the whole village heard,” Dwalin said quietly. “You’re making a fine princess already.” Dwalin exhaled, as if trying to suppress an outburst of emotion. “Well, hello, Princess Lauraline. I’m your Paw.”

Thorin settled beside you careful, and his kiss was even more so. But with it, you were able to feel all of the love and joy he felt in that moment. How pleased he was. “I love you, amralime.”

“And I love you,” you returned just as sincerely. Your eyes darted to Dwalin and Lauraline, and no matter how much joy you swore you could feel, the sight filled you with even more. It was like a full family, now. A complete family. And one that you swore would not be separated for a very long time.


	17. A Thousand Words

Erebor’s mining production provided not only the elves with metals to forge into the finest crafted blades in the region, but also gave the poor folk of Dale that had lost most of their families jobs in which to put food on their table. With the elves farming and doing the battle forging, and the dwarves getting over their prejudice to make Erebor great once more, time spent as a family was difficult, at best.

The only times you truly saw Thorin was in bed, and one of you were always asleep – usually him. And if you woke early, you did not wake him. But most of the time, he was gone to do his duties before you were awoken by the handmaids that kept your schedule for you.

But Lauraline was never neglected. If anything, she was never allowed to touch the ground. You often stumbled across her walking (or rather, clinging onto her guide) the gates of Erebor with Fili or Kili. Or she was sitting on Thorin’s lap on his throne, silent as a lamb, watching her father conduct his business. Or Dwalin and Balin were telling her stories that she was too young to understand, but still shrieked in delight at the hand motions and sound effects Dwalin used to retell famous battles.

It was subject matter you hardly approved of for a small infant. But no matter how many times you insisted they find something else, your father was always one to insist that a shield maiden had to know stories of war before she participated in them.

“You are all taking this shield maiden business way too seriously,” you insisted, reaching for your daughter from Balin’s lap. “No swords or arrows until you know not to poke your eyes out.” The reprimand was meant for the little girl, but was aimed towards the two brothers. “I mean it. I’d like her to have both eyes by her fortieth name day.” Which, by Oin’s calculations, would be the time she reached maturity, like most dwarves. Being three-quarters of a dwarf, she took after their traits more than you ever had.

When she went missing, one of the group always knew where she was. And if she wasn’t with one, she was with the other. She was often stolen from you, with the excited exclamations that she needed to be shown something in the city. Nevermind that she wouldn’t remember it. The only times you saw her in the day, much to your chagrin, was when she was hungry or needed to be changed. But you knew she was much too young to be making favorites. You just missed her.

So when you sighed in exhaustion, the day of tending to the plans for the royal welcome ball with Lady Dis, to celebrate the reconquering of Erebor now that it was prospering as it once was, you were ready for bed. Fili insisted that Lauraline was already in her crib, by your bedside. It had been something you insisted on. You did not want a wet nurse, like Thorin had thought. And you did not want strangers taking care of your daughter. She was your daughter to coddle and coo over.

You quietly entered your bed chamber, not wishing to wake the baby if she was already asleep, and paused as you took in the sight before you. Thorin was laying on the bed, on top of the covers, with his hair sprawled around him. He was bare-chested, wearing only his trousers, and his mouth was open slightly as he breathed deeply. Normally he collapsed on the bed often, and he didn’t just breathe deeply, he snored, after a long day of attending to his duties.

But today he had a visitor. A tiny one, wrapped in a blanket, thumb in their mouth, sleeping on his chest without a care that her bed was truly a few feet away.

They were a sight for sore eyes. Lauraline did not even stir as you shut the bedroom door quietly, and approached. Thorin, however, started just enough to wake from snoring, and he spotted you shedding your tunic and trousers, before sliding under the covers beside him, curling up at his side to give him a gentle kiss, before glancing to the little pink bundle. “She woke a few minutes ago and I just got her to sleep.”

“As were you, my King.” You reached out, gently smoothing down the girl’s unruly dark hair. She definitely took after her father. “On the verge of snoring, too.”

“Mmm,” Thorin murmured. “I think my queen is mistaken. If I snored, I would have surely woken her.”

“I said on the verge, not actually snoring,” you countered with a giggle. “You two look very cozy.”

“We were waiting for her mother to arrive.”

“I hope she doesn’t mind another women in the bed with you.”

Thorin growled playfully. “Cheeky wrench.”

“I’ve missed you,” you said quietly, and you kissed him lightly, moving so that you did not cause Lauraline to wake.

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” Thorin said, confused.

“No, but it has been ages since we have had time to ourselves to lay with one another.” Your hand rested on his arm, one of the arms that held Lauraline still. And though awake, he blinked sleepily, obviously still drained. “We should sleep, amralime. It’s late.”

“I shall have to work harder to keep my Queen happy,” Thorin murmured, and he shifted so that you were able to rest your head on the patch of bare skin between his shoulder and his chest. Your hand wound up, gently stroking the chest hair that was inches from your face.

“I am already happy.”

“I was talking about the other woman sharing my bed.”

You giggled. “The Princess looks very happy.”

“Aye, she does.” You closed your eyes, relishing the silence as Thorin’s deep breaths lulled you near a dreamland. “Because I did as my Queen commanded it.”

“Mmm, and what did she command?”

“Name her after someone that was happy.”

“My mother wasn’t a very happy person in the end.”

“No, but her middle namesake.”

You felt a light smile warm your face. Ah, yes. “After everything that happened, he was still able to hope and keep the situation light with sarcasm and witty riddles.” Thorin chuckled lightly. You opened your eyes, to see that the girl slept more soundly than you were sure she had ever slept in her life. “Lauraline Bilbo Durin. The Princess Under the Mountain. Our little dragon.”

“Let’s hope she doesn’t start breathing fire. Then we shall have more problems.”

You placed a kiss to your husband’s chest, silencing his teasing. “We have a busy day tomorrow.”

“I’ll have the stewards clear the day for tomorrow. I do not want to waste another minute by your side.” There was no need to reply, nor protest. A day staying in bed, with no obligations to leave sounded wonderful – it sounded like your honeymoon once more. You settled into his side, and his arm slid under you, holding you close. No one would take this picture from you. No one could ever take this moment. Because it meant more than a thousand words.

Thorin and Lauraline both meant more than a thousand words.


End file.
